#this is a solace-heavy batch

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Tav memes part 3/?

[nahoney22]

Me again! Please can I request some HC’s with the bad batch and how they react to reader (gn or female) accidentally crawling into the boys bunk at night 😂

Accidental Sleeping Arrangements

All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader

How the boys react to you accidentally crawling into their bunk at night.

warnings: Fluff, comfort, cuddles, some moody boys, gender neutral reader. Can be read as romantic or platonic.

Echo 💤

The first time:

As you slid into his bunk accidentally that evening, he was thoroughly bewildered. He had jolted awake and sat upright, observing your exhausted form snuggling against him, eyelids heavy with fatigue.

With tactful gentleness, he roused you from your slumber, delicately shaking you to bring you back to awareness. "Hey, um, you're in my bunk, trooper."

Your eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dim light, and a muttered curse escaped your lips as you retreated, cheeks warming with embarrassment. "Sorry, Echo," you apologized, slipping out of his bunk. "I must be completely drained," you sheepishly confessed.

"It's alright. I just didn't want to startle you by waking up to my face," he commented. You glance at him with a furrow forming on your brow before you shook your head.

"I doubt I'd be bothered by that..." your words trailed off, potentially carrying unintended flirtation. Echo's eyes widened slightly, his hand instinctively moving to the back of his neck, a clear sign of slight shyness at your words.

"Anyway," you say abruptly, spinning on your heel. "Sorry about that."

Echo simply nodded, silently observing as you retreated to your own bunk, leaving him with a sudden chill in the air, now yearning for the warmth you briefly brought beside him.

The second time:

With a tired yawn, Echo wearily approaches his bunk a few nights later, only to halt in surprise at the sight of someone curled up inside. Upon closer inspection, he realises it's you again, presenting him with a slight dilemma.

Despite his weariness, Echo knows he needs rest, and while your bunk is an option, his own provides the perfect setup for his cybernetics, ensuring he's at his best for the next day's duties.

Letting out a small sigh, hoping you wouldn't mind, he settles on the edge of his bunk and gently wakes you. "Hey, you're in my bunk again," he murmurs softly.

You stir, meeting his gaze before cringing slightly. "Again? I'm so sorry," you begin to rise, but his hand on your shoulder stops you.

"You can stay, but I'd also like to get some sleep... if you, uh, catch my meaning," he hints with a faint smile, hoping you understand.

"Oh," you blush, considering for a moment. "Well, I hope you don't mind sharing."

"Not at all," he reassures, his tone gentle as you make space. He lies beside you, and before long, you drift back to sleep. Echo finds solace in the rhythm of your soft snores, gradually succumbing to sleep himself... though waking up to find you both cuddling is a surprise he hadn't anticipated, yet one he welcomes warmly.

Hunter 💤

The first time:

When Hunter awoke to find you crawling into his bunk, confusion gripped him. Instantly alert, his hands tensed, ready to confront any potential intruder, but his apprehension melted away as he recognised you.

He lay there in silence, contemplating his next move.

While a part of him felt inclined to let you sleep, considering your recent exhaustion, he couldn't shake the concern of startling you upon awakening to find him beside you.

After ensuring you were deeply asleep, he carefully extricated himself from the occupied bunk, making sure not to disturb you.

Once free, he couldn't suppress a soft chuckle as he observed you, peacefully snuggled into his pillow, emitting gentle snores. “Sleep well.” He whispered to you before leaving you to rest.

He made a mental note to address the situation in the morning, but perhaps it’s better left unsaid since you’ll know your error when you woke up.

The second time:

As you woke up to find yourself in Hunter's bunk, mortification swept over you. Yet, when you encountered Hunter in the cockpit, he didn't mention a word about it, instead offering you a drink of caf.

A small part of you entertained the idea that perhaps he was unaware of the nighttime intrusion. However, your suspicions were confirmed a few nights later.

Fatigued and not paying attention to your surroundings, you headed towards what you thought was your bunk and climbed inside, only to be surprised by the presence of another person. "Hunter, what're you doing?" you blurt out, eyes widening in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same question," he chuckles, adjusting his position and turning to face you. "This is my bunk."

Blinking in realisation, you glance around, confirming his assertion. "Oh," you laugh sheepishly, "I thought this was mine."

His smile is gentle, his eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "You're more than welcome to stay," he offers casually, though he soon realizes the potential implications of his words. "If you want to, that is."

A part of you knows you should return to your own bunk, yet there's an inexplicable pull keeping you there. "Well, I'm all comfy now..." you hint with a small smile.

He nods, turning his gaze away and closing his eyes. "Me too. Sleep well."

It took you a moment to fall asleep but just like how Hunter didn’t tell you that you had slept in his bunk first initially, you won’t tell him how he pulls you into his body as he slept and held you close throughout the night. Not that you seemed to mind.

Wrecker 💤

The first time:

"Wrecker, you scared me! What are you doing in my bunk?" you exclaimed, startled by the unexpected intrusion.

As you thought you were settling into your bunk for the night, using your hands to navigate through the darkness, you accidentally crawled onto something large and hard.

Assuming it was just your sheets bunched up, you attempted to smooth it out, only to be met with a small yelp that made your heart skip a beat.

"Huh?" Wrecker groggily emerged from his sleep cocoon, rubbing his eyes. "This is my bunk, isn't it?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it's mine," you asserted, but as Wrecker shifted in the bunk and reached under the blanket, he pulled out his beloved Lula.

"Oh. Maybe not then." You felt pretty embarrassed by your mistake, but Wrecker didn't seem to mind at all.

"It's alright, thought I was going to get an extra cuddle buddy for a second there!" he chuckled heartily, waving Lula in your face. His laughter filled the room, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of being Wrecker's "cuddle buddy," though you weren't entirely sure if he was joking.

Deciding not to dwell on it further and eager to avoid keeping Wrecker awake any longer, you offered a meek apology before retreating to your actual bunk. As you settled in, you couldn't shake the image of Wrecker's playful grin from your mind.

The second time:

Wrecker stared down at his bunk, finding it already occupied with not much room left for him. You were snoozing away, oblivious to his dilemma. Wrecker knew he could be a bit of a grouch without his sleep, so he decided to gently prod you awake.

"Hey," he nudged you, rousing you from your slumber. "Is this you asking to be my cuddle buddy?"

You stirred awake, blinking in confusion as you glanced at him. It was then that you noticed Lula on the pillow next to your head. "Oh shoot, sorry Wrecker," you sighed groggily, just wanting to fall back asleep into the warmth of his bunk.

"It's alrigh’," he chuckled softly, his deep voice filling the room with warmth. "But uh... I kinda need to sleep."

"Then come cuddle next to me," the words slipped out before you realized what you were saying, but you didn't want to take them back either. The thought of Wrecker's warmth beside you was oddly comforting.

Wrecker was surprised for a moment, his eyes widening slightly, before a soft smile spread across his face. Without hesitation, he slung his armor off and crawled into the space beside you. "Are ya sure about this?"

"Mhm," you replied sleepily, your arms spreading over his chest as you nestled into him like a log warming a fire. "You're warm."

Wrecker smiled to himself, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he closed his eyes, feeling your steady breathing against his chest.

Tech 💤

The first time:

Sleep was not a common occurrence for Tech, so when he made the rare decision to nestle down for the night, he wasn't too perturbed to find you asleep in his allocated spot.

He paused for a moment, considering whether to wake you, but recalling your exhausted state earlier, he reasoned that you wouldn't have intentionally taken his bunk.

Instead, he quietly observed the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, noting the serenity that graced your features, before silently retreating back to the cockpit where he remained awake for the night once again.

"Tech, why didn't you wake me? I feel terrible," you expressed your guilt that next morning upon discovering that you had accidentally slept in his bunk, leaving him to forego his own rest.

"That is not necessary. You were tired, and I can always keep my mind occupied with tasks or reading intel," he replied in his usual composed manner, peering at you over his datapad. "I shall assume this was a one-time occurrence, and my bunk shall be my own again tonight."

“Yes, of course," you nodded, your expression reflecting genuine concern as you offered another apology before preparing for the demanding day ahead. Despite Tech's assurances, the weight of your unintended intrusion lingered.

The second time:

It just so happened to be the next night that you found yourself once again interrupting Tech's sleep. Moving through the dark ship with heavy eyes and a yawn on your lips, it was no surprise that you once again miscounted where your bunk was and crawled into the wrong one.

Your head hit the pillow, and your eyes shut as the warmth of the bed enveloped you. However, despite the comfort, a small flickering light kept intruding upon your consciousness, prompting your eyes to flutter open. At first, you didn't register the source, but as you turned your head to the right, your eyes widened in realisation: Tech laying there on his datapad, as if nothing had happened.

"Tech, what... am I...?" you began, your voice trailing off as confusion clouded your thoughts.

"In the wrong bunk?" he interjected calmly, settling his datapad down and gazing down at you. His goggles rested atop his head, allowing you to see the brightness of his eyes in the dark. "That is correct."

You sit up, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood over you, and run your hand over your face in frustration. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's up with me.”

Tech raises a single brow, his expression softened with genuine concern. "Perhaps in the morning, I should run some tests if you will allow me?" he suggests softly, his voice carrying a hint of worry. "But for now, I suggest you get some sleep."

Nodding in agreement, you reluctantly pull the blanket off your body, preparing to retreat to your own bunk. However, before you can make your escape, Tech's hand gently rests on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

"You are free to continue sleeping in my bunk tonight if you find it comfortable," he offers unexpectedly, his gesture of kindness catching you off guard.

"What, really?" you respond, turning to face him, searching his eyes for confirmation.

With a nod, Tech reclines back and retrieves his datapad. "Yes, really. I do not mind."

"But what if I keep you awake again?" you voice your concern.

"Do not worry about me," he reassures softly, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now, get some rest before I give you a lecture about the benefits of getting sleep."

You chuckle softly at his remark before settling, finding comfort in his understanding demeanor. As you prepare to drift off into slumber, you can't help but feel thankful for Tech's compassion and generosity.

In the quiet of the night, you woke up only once, feeling Tech's arm drape gently across your body. Yet, instead of feeling unsettled, you found comfort in his presence.

Crosshair 💤

The first time:

As you prepared to settle in for the night after a long day, exhaustion clouded your judgment, leading you to absentmindedly crawl into a bunk without much thought. However, your relaxation was short-lived as you were startled by a gravelly voice beside you.

"What are you doing?" The abrupt question made you jump, and you inadvertently knocked your head against the top of the bunk in surprise.

"What am I doing? What the kriff are you doing?" you retorted in annoyance, rubbing your sore head as Crosshair sat up beside you, his expression stern in the dim light.

"I'll think you'll find this is my bunk," he hissed, his sharp gaze piercing through the darkness. As you glanced across the room, you realised your mistake—the bunk you were in wasn't yours.

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. Now get out before I drag you out," he threatened, though you could tell it was more playful than serious.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on," you sighed as you obediently crawled out of his bunk, feeling the absence of warmth as you departed.

Crosshair grumbled under his breath and rolled back onto his side to sleep, while you mentally chided yourself for the blunder, making sure you never accidentally try to sleep in his bunk again.

The second time:

You're exhausted, your head throbbing with the relentless ache of sleep deprivation from the past few days, and you've reached the point where you don't care where you sleep anymore. And that includes Crosshair's bunk.

As you settle down on the edge of his bunk, the closest one available, you feel the weight of his gaze on your back, following your movements as you swing your legs around and lay down. "What are you doing?" his voice cuts through the silence, tinged with irritation.

You don't reply, simply closing your eyes as you allow the fatigue to wash over you, hoping for a moment's respite.

"This is my bunk," he asserts firmly, his agitation evident, but as you remain silent, his annoyance shifts to confusion.

"Are you... alright?" he inquires, concern creeping into his voice.

You shake your head softly, and you hear him sigh, but he doesn't press you further. Nor does he demand that you leave.

As sleep begins to claim you, Crosshair remains awake for a while, his thoughts swirling. In his mind, he tells himself that this is a one-time occurrence.

Yet, if you're upset and in need of somewhere to rest for a while, he doesn't mind if you sleep next to him again. After all, it turns out to be the best sleep he's had in a while too.

Masterlist

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[shangchiswife]

miguel o'hara- stress relief

summary: you help miguel destress after a stressful day at work

miguel x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 1323

....

It had been a calm and cozy day in the apartment you and Miguel shared. The winter chill had descended upon the city, prompting you to seek refuge indoors.

Determined to keep warm, you prepared a delicious batch of your famous chili, simmering it slowly over the stove.

Lost in the comforting aroma of spices filling the air, you were startled as the front door swung open abruptly, causing you to jolt in surprise.

Miguel burst into the apartment, his face twisted with anger, instantly catching your attention.

Miguel, still clad in his Spider-Man suit, made his way to the couch with heavy steps and plopped down onto it.

You ignored the steaming pot of chili in front of you and made your way toward him.

His back was hunched as he rubbed his temples.

"Miguel, what happened?" you asked, concern etching your voice as you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his hands clenched into fists. "It's Alchemax," he finally replied, his voice laced with frustration.

"They're up to something big, and I can't let them get away with it."

"What did you find out?" you asked, your voice steady despite the anxious thoughts swirling in your mind.

"They're planning to release a dangerous experiment into the city," Miguel explained, his eyes narrowing with determination. 

"Something that could cause chaos and harm innocent lives."

You gently guided Miguel's head to rest against your stomach, your fingers tenderly weaving through his hair. As he closed his eyes, a contented smile graced his lips, finding solace in the warmth of your touch.

With a hushed tone, you reassured him, your voice filled with unwavering support. "You'll stop them, Miguel, just like you always do," you murmured, your words imbued with genuine belief.

His gaze met yours and his eyes softened as he gave you a look that was only reserved for you.

In those moments of vulnerability, you became his anchor, providing a sanctuary amidst the turmoil of his duties as Spider-Man.

With each stroke of your fingers through his hair, you affirmed your commitment, your love shining brightly even in the darkest of times.

Miguel felt slight relaxation from your gentle motions but still seemed to be stressed as he started to rub his temples.

Suddenly an idea sparked in your head and a smirk graced your lips.

You came in front of him and started getting on your knees, watching as his eyes widened.

“What are you doing, mi vida?” Miguel asked as he watched you tie your hair back.

“Just relieving a little bit of your stress,” you cooed as you stroked his clothed cock, watching as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Do you really wanna play this game, muneca?” he questioned, his eyes glazed with lust.

You nodded as he stood up and unzipped his suit revealing his toned body.

Miguel laid back against the sofa, his eyes focused on your thighs rubbing together.

“Want me to help you out with that, princesa?” he smirked as he watched your face burn.

“No, this is about you right now,” you said as you waved aside thoughts about your own pleasure and looked at him.

Right as your fingers gripped the waistband of his boxers, Miguel gripped your throat making you look up at him with shock as he leaned his head forward so that his hot breath tickled your ear.

“You fucking tease me and I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk for weeks,” his voice was deep and full of lust as he bit your earlobe.

You had to bite your lip to suppress the moan that was about to escape your throat. 

He retreated his head back to scan your face as he removed his fingers from your throat.

You gulped.

“Got it?” he lifted your chin up with a single digit.

“Yes sir,” you whimpered as he grinned at your submission.

“Now be a good girl and suck me off,” he said, tapping his clothed cock.

You eagerly pulled down his boxers and watched his cock spring up. It was thick with pre-cum already leaking from it.

Your mouth watered at the sight as he continued to grin wickedly.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” he asked as you nodded, bending down so that you were mere centimeters away from his cock.

You parted your lips open and took him in your mouth, putting one of your hands around his shaft just the way he liked it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sensation of your mouth on his cock already giving him pleasure.

Your thighs clenched again at his moan as you started licking the base of his cock, your tongue gliding along his veins.

“What did I fucking tell you?” Miguel growled, looking down at you giving his cock kitten licks.

“I will destroy you if you tease me,” 

As intriguing as that sounded, you just wanted to please your boyfriend and wanted him to destress so you took more of him until your nose brushed against his pubic hair.

You could feel him throbbing in your mouth as you swirled your tongue around him, wanting to explore every part of him.

You started to suck on him making him immediately bring a hand down to your hair and fist it making you moan.

“Keep doing that, baby, feels so good,” he praised, as you looked up at him with teary eyes growing wetter from his praise.

The moment he locked eyes with you it was over and he gripped your hair tightly and started thrusting into your mouth with no mercy.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat making you almost gag from the rough sensation.

His hips continued to snap back and forth into your mouth and you swore that you could see stars because of how fast he was going.

You brought one of your hands to his muscular thighs and gripped it, digging your nails into his skin.

“Such a good fucking girl, allowing me to use you as a toy to relieve my stress,” Miguel’s eyes were almost black as he watched his cock slide in and out of your mouth. 

You watched as his thighs twitched and you could tell that he was going to cum soon along with the way he kept cursing in Spanish.

Tears started to leak from your cheeks as his thrusts started to get sloppier.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” his eyebrows furrowing with pleasure.

Before he could cum, you detached your lips from his cock, a strand of saliva connecting from your lips to your cock.

You know what maybe he could also destress by destroying me you thought.

Your eyes were fixed on Miguel as he casually rose from his seat. The thumping of your heart seemed to echo in your chest, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

In a rush of nerves and anticipation, you forced yourself to stand up, trembling with a blend of fear and excitement. The intensity of his gaze sent chills down your spine, yet a strange thrill started to build inside you.

“I told you what would happen,” he chuckled darkly as he started cornering you into the wall.

Once your back hit the wall, in one swift movement, he turned you over so that your clothed ass was flush against his cock.

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his hot breath against your exposed neck. The sensation sent chills tingling through your body, a mix of anticipation and unease swirling within you.

"I'm going to destroy you," he whispered, his words dripping with a dark promise. And then, without warning, his teeth sank into your shoulder, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain and a feeling of pleasure bubbling in your stomach.

It was safe to say that the chili you were previously making had burnt.

[dangraccoon]

Dnd and clones make brain go brr, so thank you!

I rolled a 10, Echo, 9. "I'm ready to try again if you are", and a 16. Forced proximity (great rolls for once)

I was thinking maybe they dated before the citadel, and after they reunite he's all cold and insecure and forced proximity gets them actually talking again? hehe she/her or gn is fine!

I'm Different

Echo x F!Reader (no gender or pronouns described)

~ Echo - "I'm ready to try again if you are" - Forced Proximity ~

Author’s Note: here you go, anon!! I hope it was what you’re looking for! And feel free to send more if you’d like 💛😁

Warnings: mentions of canon character deaths, partial cave in, restricted space (not very tight), body image issues

Mando'a Guide: Mesh'la - beautiful

From the moment you’d met him, you knew Echo would be the love of your life. He was kind, smart, and very handsome. He’d swept you off your feet the moment you first met when you’d joined the 501st, coming onto you with some cheesy pick-up line Fives had dared him to use. It hadn’t worked, of course, but the sheepish way he’d apologized and started a real conversation had won you over.

Losing him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to endure in your life. You found comfort with Fives, finding solace in that friendship. But then he was gone, too. Your heart had been so heavy, looking at the other men who so resembled your lost love and friend. 

Even though their personalities varied from man to man, you still saw them. You saw Echo’s strict adherence to the regulations that only lasted up until Fives gave him that look that could only mean “I’m going to do something crazy, and you’re coming with me.” You saw Fives’ fierce determination that was always softened by Echo’s cool, calm, and collected demeanor. You saw the domino twins in every pair of troopers you met. That is, until you met them.

Clone Force 99 was… different to say the least. You’d met them very briefly before they’d left with Rex for a mission. Rex would only describe this mission to you as “need-to-know”, and for that, he’d gotten one of your “death glares” as Echo and Fives had called it. You saw Kix and Jesse shudder out of the corner of your eye before you stormed off. Ever since you’d been stationed with the 501st, you knew everything. Some of the shinies even thought you to be the natborn version of an ARC. The radio silence you were receiving was unusual.

You endured days of nothing until one day you’d cornered Kix, demanding to know what was going on. He’d sighed deeply, then wordlessly led you back through the compound to a wing of the medical bay.

A pale clone sat on the edge of one of the beds, covered head to artificial foot in machinery, being beeped at by several droids.

You stared at the man, something familiar stirring in your chest, and even though the man never noticed you, you knew in the very depths of your soul that it was Echo - your Echo.

It had been months since you transferred with Echo to the Bad Batch. The odd group of clones had pulled you both in with open arms, despite being a “reg” and a “nattie”. You’d gone on countless missions, one after the other, always busy, but something was throwing you off.

Despite having reacquainted with your lost lover, Echo was different. He was polite and somewhat cordial with you like you were any other natborn. He might not have known it, but it was breaking your heart.

“What’s wrong with me?” you asked him. He had wandered further into the cave the squad had set up camp inside, claiming to want to get away from Wrecker and Tech’s snoring. He hadn’t heard you following him.

He startled, desperately avoiding your gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he muttered.

“You’ve been avoiding me since Anaxes,” you stated bluntly. “I know it’d been years since you’d seen me and a lot was going on back then, but Echo, it’s been months and you can barely even look at me unless it’s a necessity.”

Echo finally met your eyes, noticing the tear slipping down your cheek. He sighed. “I’m not trying to-”

Suddenly, there was a rumbling in the ground. The whole cave shook around you, knocking you to your knees.

Rocks fell all around you, cutting off the tunnel back to the others and the opening of the cavern. 

Echo pulled you to your feet milliseconds before a large jagged boulder fell, barely missing you.

A moment later, the rumbling stopped. Hunter began calling you and Echo over the comms. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re alright,” Echo answered, already pushing at the rocks blocking the two of you from reaching the rest of the group. “But we’re boxed in.”

He gave a hard shove to one of the large rocks, moving it just a little. With its shift came a downpouring of rocks that would’ve hit him had you not grabbed the backplate of his armor, yanking him away.

“Don’t attempt to move anything,” Tech warned. “The structural integrity of the cave is questionable at best.”

“Sit tight until we find another way out for you,” Hunter ordered.

“Kriff,” you swore, plopping down onto the ground. 

Echo sat as well, though you could tell he was uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry; the others will find a way out of this place,” you sniffed, scowling at the ground. “You won’t have to be stuck with me for long.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up as you tried to hold back the tears gathering in yours.

“I didn’t mean to-” he started but cut himself off with a sigh. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your head lifted to meet his gaze. “What?”

“You haven’t changed much, despite everything,” he explained. “You’re still kind and smart. Still a hell of a fighter and… hell, somehow you’ve gotten more beautiful.”

You felt your cheeks warm. “Then why-”

“Because I’m different,” he asserted. “The Separatists took me and used my brain. They- they changed me. Turned me into this.” He gestured to the replaced portions of his body with his scomp. “And they- they nearly broke me.”

“Echo-”

“And you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of this,” he growled. “You deserve someone who can hold you, who can take care of you. You deserve a person, not a thing like me.”

Your tears were flowing freely down your cheeks now, washing away the dirt that clung to your face, leaving streaks as they went. “Echo,” you whispered, gently touching his arm. He still didn’t look at you. You scoffed. “Stars, you’re stupid.”

You thought he might’ve broken his neck with how fast he turned to face you, his expression a textbook example of shock.

You chuckled. “Of course you’re different. I mean, stars, Echo; you were dead!” You took his hand in yours. “I couldn’t expect you to be exactly how you were before, and I hope you don’t think I’m truly the same after losing you. But I love you, and that’s something that could never change. Organic or machine parts, you’re still you. You’re still my Echo.”

He watched you curiously as if he thought you might be playing a joke on him.

“I know things are a little different now, but I’m in this for the long haul and I don’t want to lose you again,” you whispered. “I’m ready to try again if you are.”

“Mesh’la,” he shook his head. “I can’t- I won’t be able to provide the things you need.”

You cupped his cheek, your eyes boring into his. “Will you love me?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“Then you can provide everything I need.”

You pulled against him, your lips meeting his softly, but still firm and steady.

He eagerly kissed you back, instantly remembering the feel of your lips against his.

After a few moments, you breathlessly pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“I love you, Echo.”

“I love you, too.”

Thanks for reading! - River

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[starrylothcat]

Not Alone

Hunter x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: Big spoilers for The Bad Batch S2 finale. Sadness, angst, comfort. SFW

Summary: You comfort Hunter after the events of the season 2 finale.

Word Count: 900ish

I was inspired by @jedipoodoo ‘s post on writing comfort for Hunter after the S2 finale, and @wanderer-six ‘s lovely Wrecker fic. Check it out! Our boys are in desperate need of comfort. 😩

Anyway, enjoy. 😌

The Marauder was deadly silent. You could feel the anguish hanging in the air, it was suffocating as you tried to conceal your sobs. You found a small corner of the ship to tuck away in to, trying to process everything that had happened.

Tech was gone.

And so was Omega.

You couldn’t think straight, the grief ripping through you. Watching Tech plummet in to the clouds ran through your mind over and over. Seeing Omega be taken, while you all watched hopelessly, gripped your heart like an iron vice.

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears spilled out, silent cries wracking your body.

A gentle touch on your shoulder startled you. Hunter was standing over you, his face twisted in guilt. You had been with Clone Force 99 long enough to call them all brothers. Over time, your relationship with Hunter became more than friends, and you loved one another fiercely.

On Pabu, in those blissful days of no worries, you both talked about settling down there together with Omega. You were hopeful for a chance of putting your lives as soldiers to rest, and being with the man you loved. But that dream was now gone.

He held out a hand, offering to help you stand up. Always the strong Sergeant. But he doesn’t have to be.

He shouldn’t be the one coming to comfort you, as you knew him well enough to know what he was thinking. He blames himself.

You took his hand and laced yours with his once you stood up fully. The feeling of his gloved hand caressing yours gave you solace, momentarily. He looked at you, the absolute pain his eyes making your heart shatter. “Hunter…” your voice almost inaudible. He reached toward you with his free hand, wiping a tear off your face. “We’ll find her…” he whispered. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to crack under his gentle touch. “Don’t blame yourself...” You mumbled as you laid your head in the crook of his neck, tears threatening to fall again. Hunter put his strong arms around you, pulling you close and resting his cheek on top of your head.

“Let me help you, let us help you.” You said softly.

He gripped you tighter, and you could feel his body shake. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let them take her. I shouldn’t have taken us to Cid’s. I shouldn’t have let Tech…” His voice broke and he buried his face in to your hair. His usual stoic demeanor was crumbling, and he felt lost.

Useless. A failure.

He had let everyone down. First Crosshair. Now Tech. And Omega…his family was fading away from him one by one and there was nothing he could do about it. His grief over Tech laying so heavy on him, he could barely breath. He had never felt so undone.

He continued his hold on you, afraid if he let go, you’d be taken from him too. Something that he already had nightmares about and couldn’t bear the pain of that passing thought, not now. His senses were suddenly overwhelmed, and his head began to spin. He stumbled forward, before catching himself on you. “Hunter! Sit down, you’re still injured...” You had grabbed his shoulders to catch him, and he leaned in to you.

“I’m still here, Hunter.” You murmured. “We made these decisions as a team. And Tech…he saved us. This isn’t something you need to carry alone. Please, we’ll do this together.” You pleaded, knowing whatever you said, he would still carry the guilt on his own. He knew he didn’t have to, but it was habit. He let out a breath, your soft words bringing him back, grounding him.

Hunter looked you in the eyes, trying to find anything to say. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned in to your touch, feeling more vulnerable than he’d ever had in his life.

You brought your lips to his in a soft, chaste kiss. “I’m here for you. Always.” His mesmerizing brown eyes met yours, and you could see tears forming in the corners. “I know.” He whispered as he brought you back in to another strong embrace, your familiar scent surrounding him. He focused on the sound of your heartbeat, rhythmic and strong. Alive.

He felt your hands on his back, the warmth of your palms radiating through his clothing. He truly didn’t know what he would be without you, especially now, in this moment. You had a way of always knowing what he was thinking. While you were intense and composed on the battlefield, you had a tranquil way about you. Whenever Hunter was stressed by a mission, getting in to his own head about his skills as a leader, you were always there to reassure him. It’s one of the reasons he fell for you.

You melted in to one another, desperately wishing the circumstances were different. He slowly pulled away from you, because if didn’t, he would continue getting lost in you forever. But every second that passed, Omega got further away. You knew it too. Your lives as soldiers weren’t over. Not yet.

He put his hand under your chin, lifting it gently toward his face. “I love you.” He mumbled, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead, before stepping away from you. He moved toward the front of the ship, where Echo and Wrecker were silently sitting, lost in their own dark thoughts.

“I love you, too.” Your heart swelled momentarily, before following him to begin planning your next move, ready to continue the fight.

[sshewonders]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 05: Doubtful

chapter synopsis: Daryl and Merle arrive with supplies. When you ask Daryl to teach you hunting, he dismisses you. Frustrated, you turn to sketching in your tent for emotional release.

chapter warnings: Social isolation, rejection, and self-doubt themes as the protagonist struggles to fit in, seeking validation and finding solace in art.

word count: 1.4k words

author's note: Don't you just love it when writers depict Daryl Dixon in Season 1 just as Norman Reedus portrays him? He's an annoying jerk in Season 1, and I kind of hate it when writers make him out of character, suddenly super sweet. Anyway, enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

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The Dixon brothers set their tent at a distance, out of sight from the others. You could still keep an eye on them, given that your and Glenn's tent wasn't too far from the Dixons'. While Daryl was busy skinning the squirrels he had caught, Merle had gone off somewhere, probably into the woods to retrieve their pickup or something. Daryl wasn't exactly the sociable type, and when Carl approached him to ask about his cool crossbow, Shane sternly instructed the boy to stay away from the Dixon brothers. You couldn't blame Shane, though. He was just looking out for Carl, right?

Later around lunchtime, Merle returned with a red, worn-out pickup and a motorcycle on the back. A group of men, including Shane, Jim, T-dog, Dale, Morales, Glenn, and others whose names you didn't know, gathered around the pickup. It was loaded with a small arsenal of guns and ammo, enough to provide a bit more security but not nearly sufficient to arm everyone.

Daryl began frying some squirrels, and you observed from a distance while hanging your laundry, which had been washed by Carol. You had a plan - to talk to Daryl and ask him to teach you how to hunt, so you could help bring food to the table and not leave him hunting alone.

After finishing your chores, you made your way to the Dixon brothers' tent. Merle was still absent, probably indulging in who knows what in the woods. The sun was slowly descending in the afternoon sky.

"Hey, Daryl," you started, your voice slightly shaky due to nervousness. You weren't great at socializing, especially with strangers, and there was an unfamiliar lilt in your voice. You cleared your throat, hoping to ease your awkwardness. "I just wanted to thank you for giving some squirrels to Dale. He's cooking them for dinner now. So, thank you."

Daryl, his eyes hard and unreadable, looked up from the pan where he was frying squirrels. An uncomfortable silence hung between the both of you as you tried to decipher his expression.

Then, Daryl scoffed, still focused on the squirrels. He plated more of them, his gruff voice expressing his reluctance to chat. "It's nothin'. It's part of the deal, what tha' cop said, and my brother agreed to it."

After a moment, his gaze returned to the pan, fixated on the sizzling squirrels. He then put a few cooked ones onto a plastic plate, adding another batch to the pan, which crackled with the sound of frying. You kept your distance from the hot oil.

As the oil sizzled and popped, you flinched, your frustration growing. Daryl didn't seem to care much about your unease, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

"Damn it," you muttered to yourself, releasing a heavy sigh. You felt like you were failing at this whole conversation thing.

Daryl glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his hard eyes. "What?" he asked.

You gathered your courage and got straight to the point. "I need you to teach me how to hunt," you said, causing Daryl's eyes to lock onto you. "Please."

Daryl stared at you, as if you had lost your mind. He offered a disdainful glance and finished frying the squirrels before transferring them to a plate. "Ain't a damn teacher, girl," he scoffed, making his way toward his tent.

Unwilling to give up, you followed him, an anxious expression on your face. "Please. I really need to learn how to hunt. I want to be useful here."

Daryl's harsh tone continued, making your heart sink further. He spat out, "Why don't ya teach yourself? You're an archer, ain't ya? Or are you too delicate for that too? Some people just ain't built for this world."

You felt your heart sink, his response making you upset. You mustered up your resolve and replied, "I may know how to shoot a bow, but I don't know how to track, skin, or prepare game. That's why I need someone like you to show me. Please."

Daryl continued to give you the cold, harsh stare. His annoyance was apparent as he sneered at you, "You ain't cut out for this kind of life, girl. You should stick playin' with your bows and let the real hunters do their job. Ain't nobody got time to babysit you."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger, but you kept your composure and replied, "I may not be cut out for it now, but I'm willing to learn. So, sorry for bothering you, Daryl." With that, you turned away, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, and walked back to your tent, leaving Daryl to his squirrels.

Inside your tent, you stared at you recurve bow with a sense of hopelessness. What was the point of begging someone, especially a skilled hunter, to teach you how to hunt if they clearly despised you? It felt futile. You couldn't help but feel proud of bringing Daryl and Merle to the camp, securing a valuable source of food and weaponry. Still, a small part of you had hoped that Daryl would agree to teach you.

You had always excelled in archery. You had won numerous awards and accolades before the world fell apart, both at school and in town events. But now, in the damned new world, everything was different. Target practice on stationary darts was nothing like aiming at moving and dangerous creatures like the geeks.

You grappled with a deep sense of inadequacy in the camp. Every time you attempted to help with chores, the older women insisted on taking over, believing the tasks were too strenuous for you. When you expressed interest in gathering firewood, the men gently discouraged you, stating that such labor wasn't suitable for someone of your stature. Trying your hand at cooking resulted in laughter and ridicule, with a past incident involving almost setting a pot on fire being the source of the amusement.

You despised it all. You couldn't stand being treated like a child. You were twenty-seven years old, after all. You and Glenn were of the same age, yet he had been remarkably useful to the camp, taking on various tasks like firewood collection, car repairs, and even venturing into the city for supply runs. For you, it was an ongoing cycle of feeling inept. You had been seen as useless before the world turned to chaos, and it seemed that nothing had changed since.

You couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a sense of self-doubt. You thought about your brother, who had always been there to support you and push you to be better. Your eyes began to well up with tears as you reminisced about those moments.

Your voice cracked as you muttered to yourself, "Why can't I just be strong and useful like Glenn?" You wiped away a few tears and took a deep breath. It wasn't just about being strong physically; you felt a deep need to prove your worth to the group.

You set your bow aside, your trembling hands reaching for the worn leather bag beside you. With a deep sigh and tears glistening in your eyes, you carefully unzipped the bag, revealing the art materials within. The act of unzipping the bag felt like unearthing a piece of your past life, one that was filled with colors, inspiration, and dreams.

The sketchbook, its pages slightly yellowed with age, felt cool to the touch. You opened it gently, revealing a blank canvas waiting to be filled. Your charcoal pencils, meticulously organized by size, lay beside the sketchbook. The variety of pencils, from 4H to 6B, held the potential to capture the depth of your emotions.

In the dim light of your tent, illuminated only by a flickering candle, you began to draw. Each stroke was a release of the tension that had built up inside you. Your hand, guided by your emotions, moved with nothing but sadness.

Tears streaked down your face as you allowed your emotions to pour onto the paper. The sketch took shape, revealing a face with furrowed brows and eyes heavy with sorrow. The lines of the sketch mirrored the turbulence within your soul, the turmoil you had been trying to contain.

Time seemed to stand still as you poured your heart into the artwork. By the time you put down your charcoal pencil, the sketch was complete. You gazed at your creation, your tears now dried on your cheeks. The intensity of the emotional release left you feeling drained yet strangely relieved. The sketch captured a glimpse of your inner world, a silent cry for understanding and acceptance.

Art had been your solace for as long as you could remember, and it was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, you could find a way to express yourself and heal.

@celtic-crossbow @maackiimoo @duckmania127 @xmaeyonaiise @richardsamboramylove55

[fandomobsessedcharacters]

IMAGINE…

BEING A JEDI SURVIVING ORDER 66 AND REUNITING WITH HUNTER PT. 1

Notes: HAPPY BAD BATCH EVE! I’m excited to share this piece with you guys and don’t worry...the next one will be out before you know it! Enjoy!

Surviving a war was one thing. Surviving order 66 was another.

The clone wars was over, and the Jedi were accused of treason. Everything that has happened seemed unreal. Everything was gone in a blink of an eye. The Jedi, the Republic, everything. The clones had turned on you and you had barely come out of it alive, but you did come out of it. But why? How could they after everything they’ve been through. However that didn’t matter. Getting to Cid’s in one piece was what mattered. 

Cid the informant. From what you could remember about the Trandoshan, she was a tipster for the Jedi before the massacre. That and she resided on Ord Mantell, or at least, the most seedy part of the planet anyways. 

With nowhere to go and hide from the ever-growing power of the Empire, Cid was the next best bet.

It was dangerous times, and in times like these, and all your instincts told you to keep your head down and out of trouble. And that’s what you did. Traveling from shuttle to shuttle for the last few weeks, you were on edge. As you watched the glistening light-speed of hyperspace from your seat, you were keeping a low profile until you reached Ord Mantell. The crowded ships filled with noisy passengers were starting to feel overwhelming. It also didn’t help that clones were checking every passenger with chain-codes and soon, they were coming your way. 

Pulling your hood down to cover your face and your other hand placed on your saber underneath your cloak, you were filled with a quick panic that instantly passed as soon as the soldier did. Releasing a sigh of relief, you leaned your head against the window. With closed eyes, you could feel the saber under your hood. The comfort of something familiar easing you into solace. 

It was all you had left. Your only ally and the only person you could count on: Yourself. 

However, it wasn’t always like that. While the war was nothing but an endless battle of clankers, you had Clone Force 99. Occasionally you would spend an amount of time with the clones. Trouble followed them around like a smell and they had a uniqueness unlike anything you’ve ever seen. They were quite the team of individuals, but while you did miss them wholeheartedly, there was one that made you longing to see the most. Hunter.

He was a strong and stoic leader. But while all that was true, that’s not what made him a great leader. It wasn’t even his extraordinarily keen senses that did it either. It was his strong sense of morality. He had no hesitation to do the right thing. Whether with his brothers or to the reg commanders, he stands by his morals every time. It’s what you admired the most about him. 

And with that time with them, you got to know the clone the most. The way you knew that every time he closed his eyes, he was slowly taking in all the senses that bugged him. To even the catching the rarest smiles from him when you talked. A wistful smile came, the memories heartening as you remembered.

Even out of sight, he was still on your mind.

With a heavy heart, you had shake your head of those thoughts. Even if it was the good old times, they were nothing but the past now. Your only thought? To make it to Cid’s and hopefully, start a new life for yourself away from the Empire. As you pulled out of hyperspace to the planet of Ord Mantell, it perked your attention with a hopeful smile. Sighing, you leaned back into your seat with only one thought in mind as you soon landed.

I wonder where Hunter is right now?

***********

In Cid’s cantina, everyone was occupied.

Omega and Wrecker were smiling ear to ear as they munched on their mantell mix after another successful mission. While Tech was with Echo at the bar, talking about repairs that needed to be done to the ship over drinks. Even Hunter, who sat on the other end of the bar, with a drink in hand as he took casual sips. In spit of that, he had other things on his mind. More specifically, you. 

When he heard about the Jedi being wiped out, his only concern was you. 

Were you hurt? Were you in danger? Are you even alive? And if you were, where are you? His thoughts were engulfed with negative thoughts about you. 

All these thoughts made him down the hatch before wiping off the liquid from his mouth with his backhand. It’s not like he wanted to find you, he did. But with Crosshairs betrayal and being on the run, he couldn’t risk his team for something he wanted. Even if it meant betraying his heart for the sake of the team. Hunter just couldn’t. 

So he buried those feelings deep enough to forget for a time, but not forever. At least, until he heard a familiar voice that shook him to his core. 

“Hunter?”

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars: The Bad Batch: "Confined," "Paths Unknown," & "Shadows of Tantiss" - Review

The Bad Batch begins its third and final season with a stellar three part premiere that prioritizes character, atmosphere, and mystery.

(Review contains episode spoilers)

Captured by the Empire, Omega settles into the oppressing tedium of her new life as Nala Se's assistant in the mysterious Imperial laboratory built beneath Mount Tantiss. While she tries her best to seek solace in fellow Bad Batch captive Crosshair and the clone scientist Emerie Karr, it's hard to keep up hope in a space that's almost designed to strip it away. Little does she know that Nala Se is working desperately to cover up a monumental secret about Omega's origins and time might be running out. Meanwhile, Hunter and Wrecker hunt desperately for clues as to where their little sister has been taken.

The conclusion to The Bad Batch's second season was already an emotional roller coaster before its nail-biting cliffhanger of an ending. The team had lost Tech in a mission gone awry and were grieving when Cid pulled the rug out beneath them. The Empire arrived with the intent of collecting the clones that had defied them for so long and, in a moment of selfless sacrifice, Omega gave herself up to protect the lives of her older brothers. We left last spring with a Bad Batch that was broken and scattered to the wind. It did the thing you need a middle chapter to do. Shake up the status quo and leave the viewer at a low that must be climbed out of.

The Bad Batch's three part premiere takes its time in exploring the emotional fallout of these events. Written by showrunner Jennifer Corbett and directed by Steward Lee, "Confined," the first of the three, is one of the most methodical, atmospheric, and character heavy installments the series has ever produced. We follow Omega's routine across multiple remarkably similar and methodical days. We see her wake-up alone, pass dozens of emotionally broken clones while she shuffles off to work with a mysterious Kaminoan scientist, have her blood drawn for some unknown test, care for the bases lurca hound tracking dogs, visit a depressed Crosshair in his cell, fix up a straw toy replica of her favorite toy, and then go to sleep. Then she does it again. And then the show skips forward several hundred days. And the tedium remains unchanged. It's rare that any Star Wars series allows itself to capture banal evil and perseverance in the way The Bad Batch does here. It's a necessary storytelling move for a variety of reasons both in regards to character and the show's overarching narrative about the Empire's new secret cloning program, but a lesser series wouldn't have dedicated this amount of time to generating an emotional atmosphere this well realized. And "Confined" pulls it off in spades.

Part of what makes this first half hour so successful (and in turn what makes the payoff in "Shadows of Tantiss" as satisfying as it is) is how Omega's resolve is portrayed. Between Lee's direction and Michelle Ang's stellar voice work, we are able to see how Omega adjusts to the inhumane routine she has been subjected to, but that she still finds ways for her remarkably empathetic and determined spirit to shine through. The horrific sights of Tantiss may no longer shock her, but she still takes time out of her day to care for a wounded hound she names "Batcher" and maintains her daily visits to Crosshair.

Speaking of Crosshair, the series' most interesting clone remains a scene stealer here. Now fully disillusioned with the Empire and lacking in hope for the future, the Crosshair we meet here is lacking the steely demeanor that has always defined his character. It's hard not to see Crosshair viewing his own imprisonment and experimentation at the hands of the Empire as a sort of penance he must undertake for his own actions. His own body has even begun to fail him. His steady hands, one of the skills that he was literally bred for, have begun to twitch and shake. Even still, in his own way, we see Crosshair looking for hope in Omega. He tells her to prioritize her own survival and to avoid risks that will get herself harmed. He may not understand his sister's bountiful good-will and kindness, but he does see hope in her survival. Even if the two have never really been close, Omega is the closest thing Crosshair has to a family and that's what he must cling to. When the two do eventually escape together in "Shadows of Tantiss," the result is not only thrilling but surprisingly touching as we see both siblings rely on one another in ways they've never really had to before.

The wildcards in all of this are Omega's two caretakers, Emery Karr and Nala Se. Karr is an enigma. The only female clone we've met in the series besides Omega, she operates in a scientific and administrative position that seems separated from her dozens of siblings locked away on Tantiss. Her purpose in the Empire's overall plan is hard to place and it's not even clear that Karr knows for herself. Even still, both "Confined" and "Shadows of Tantiss" seed that she still maintains some degree of affection and loyalty to her fellow clones, Omega in particular. I'm curious to see where her story takes us. (Also, are we going to learn why exactly she and Omega are female? Is that just something the Kaminoans figured they'd try out once or twice?)

Nala Se meanwhile operates in even murkier territory. From the series' start it's been clear that the Kaminoan scientist's interest in Omega has always stretched beyond simple affection. Something about Omega is particularly vital to her and we begin to see our first hints here. It's slowly teased out over the course of two episodes that part of Tantiss's goal is to replicate a clone body that is able to carry over or increase its midichlorian count through the cloning process. And apparently, Omega is a clone with an abnormally high amount of midichlorians. It's something that seemed to be hinted at heavily in the early episodes of The Bad Batch but has been less prevalent as the series has evolved, but it's a development that has tied together many of the dangling loose threads surrounding Omega's origins. While I don't exactly expect her to be Force Sensitive (although after Ahsoka who knows that even means anymore), I do think that her potential connection to the Force is going to make her an invaluable asset to the Empire going forward. It's what makes Nala Se's subterfuge and eventual aid in Omega's escape so interesting. Is she simply interested in preserving her own research? Or is she actually interest in protecting Omega's safety? Or maybe it's both? I don't know if I'll ever forgive her for what she did to Fives back in The Clone Wars, but Nala Se is a great deal more complicated than we may have been lead to believe.

The revelations regarding Omega also tie directly into our apparent series big bad Dr. Royce Hemlock. Jimmi Simpson's cold and quiet demeanor made the villain an easy scene stealer when he first appeared last season and that absolutely continues here. With the entirety of Tantis under his oversight, Hemlock's particular style of sadism and violence begins to creep into sight. Even if he's far from being a physical threat, he doesn't need to be. It's part of what makes his humbling at the hands of The Emperor feels so satisfying and terrifying. I will rejoice anytime Ian McDiarmid graces us with his portrayal of Darth Sidious and his presence here is a great reminder of the larger mythological stakes that The Bad Batch is playing with. It's gratifying to begin to receive answers about Tantiss's main mission, which as many suspected seems tied into efforts to maintain Palptine's life after death via Project Necromancer (previously name dropped in The Mandalorian). Hemlock's work is of the utmost importance to the Emperor which makes his need to succeed even more essential and desperate. We have clear stakes for both heroes and villains and a overarching plots that has a dramatic influence on the larger Star Wars narrative.

You may notice that I've written relatively little about "Paths Unknown." Simply put, it's the most forgettable of the three premiere episodes. Sandwiched between a stellar premiere and its satisfying payoff, Hunter and Wrecker's story just doesn't feel as dramatically engaging.

That's not to say that there isn't value in seeing it. We absolutely had to check in on how the two of them are coping, which isn't well! It's undeniably heartbreaking to see these two brothers live out of a ship that used to be so loud and full of life. Their squad feels empty and the absence of Omega, Echo, and especially Tech could not be more pronounced.

It is emotionally engaging to watch the two of them team up with a batch of adolescent clones who are feeling similarly lost and abandoned. It's a tight and well executed standalone story arc, but it's hard not to wish your attention was elsewhere. And yes, the vine creatures were cool, but I'm rather checked out of episodes involving the Batch blasting away at alien monsters.

Also we got to see Roland again? Yay?

Even if "Paths Unknown" feels largely forgettable in comparison to the rest of the premiere, The Bad Batch's third season is off to a phenomenal start. The emotional and narrative stakes are established. The conflicts are set. And the production and creative teams are churning out some of their most sophisticated and well realized work ever. I'm so ready for what's to come.

Confined: A Paths Unknown: B Shadows of Tantiss: A-

[rexsterss]

Easily You

Summary:

There was a soft clatter of something being set aside. His mealpack, probably. “I saw the list.”

There you go. Cody looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Wolffe didn’t make a move, standing completely still from where he hovered by the desk, the line in shoulders stiff, as if he forced himself to stay in place. “Though I’m not surprised you put me after Rex, but Bacara? Really?”

“There’s no rank in there,” Cody chanced himself in turning around. He watched Wolffe’s gaze drop downwards. “I just thought, ‘Who would fuck me senseless for a whole week?’ and put down some names.”

the clone wars. cody/wolffe. a/b/o dynamics. sex polen. rated E (18+). 5.7k+ words.

Day 1: A/B/O; Aphrodisiacs / Sex Pollen of @subcodyweek!

Based on 50 A Softer World Prompts

There should be a word for a threat that is also a promise. Because that is what I want you to hold me down and do. (I love you)

It was starting to slide into a shit stain of a campaign.

Somewhere after day-4 of their siege, Cody thought that this was where they were meant to fail, and that the heavy rain and sucking mud were there only because they were. Troopers lost their boots to the unforgiving ground, some of them even needed help getting their feet free, or to scramble for balance when they tripped over hidden roots, or that when they slipped, the roaring rain and booming lightning broke the dark skies above their heads.

Too much broken machinery. Too many casualties. Too many fucking deaths.

At least, the 104th carried half the load, their grey almost nonexistent in the dreary storm as they marched along Cody’s orange. Their presence didn’t make him feel as if he was drowning under all that water, under his brothers’ anguished screaming when droid after droid killed them off without mercy, not when they were here together, General Koon and General Kenobi taking point on land while Commander Wolffe flew in his starfighter with a squadron of his own.

Whenever the dark days were lit with firepower, and Cody knew they were one blink away from getting blown up too soon, he’d switch on their private channel. The gravel in Wolffe’s voice was familiar as he instructed his troopers on where to split up, where to attack from different vantage points to cover more ground as they worked as an effective unit. The Wolfpack would go low enough to land a barrage of laser cannons onto the whole sea of droids, wiping them out in large batches as they gave Cody and his platoon a direct path to get to that barricade.

He took solace on the fact that Wolffe was safe, that he sounded just the way Cody remembered, and continued fighting his way through the droids.

READ MORE ON AO3

[tteokdoroki]

WHEN THE COOKIE CRUMBLES. | I.MIDORIYA.

ʚ♡ɞ SYNOPSIS: following a series of unfortunate events, misunderstandings and years of pining after your pro hero friend— all it takes is one batch of cookies ‘n cream frosting for the two of you to finally get together.

ʚ♡ɞ PAIRING: izuku midoriya x fem!reader.

ʚ♡ɞ WC: 16.3K.

ʚ♡ɞ RATED: mature, 18+, mdni.

ʚ♡ɞ GENRE: pro hero!au, bakery!au, angst, fluff + smut.

ʚ♡ɞ CW: please read ! mutual pining, brief panic attack, heavy smut, soft sex ( characters aged up to twenties ), heavy food play!kink, praise!kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), fingering ( female receiving ), guided masturbation, exhibitionism, virginity loss, cumplay.

ʚ♡ɞ A/N:  hi loves!! im FINALLY posting this belated b-day fic for deku! this was a part of @rat-zuki's  the deku agenda escapes no-one collab. thank you annie for letting me take part!! sorry this was so late ‘n be sure to check out everyone else’s works!! ily guys, i missed writing for deku so i hope you enjoy! 

ʚ♡ɞ masterlist | requests | kofi

there are three three key stages to baking a cake. the dry ingredients, the wet ingredients and the all important frosting on top.

there are three key stages to anything really; a failed relationship, a breakdown over school or work— and even life itself. a beginning, a middle and an end. childhood, the weird teenage years where you tell your mother it’s not just a phase and that you really are destined to marry whatever idol you had hanging on the back of your bedroom door...and then finally; adulthood. the confusing cesspool of responsibilities, like taxes and groceries mixed with proper adult emotions and scenarios that didn’t allow you to throw a hissy fit when something didn’t go the way you planned…

at least that’s what society would tell you.

you would argue that you never quite made it to adulthood, the kind age of twenty three not quite visible in your smile lines just yet; especially with the youthful round off to the shape of your face. you hadn’t followed the correct rite of passage into being a grown adult either— having dropped out of college three years shy of graduating to pursue your real, yet childlike dream of owning a bakery. as it turned out, the IT degree your mother had bestowed upon you wasn’t really your thing and as the responsible adult she was; she had thrown a fit about you dropping out, although your father and step mom had been more than willing to support you. hitoshi shinsou, your best friend, followed you in pursuing your career too— something about a stupid childhood pact that meant wherever you went, he would follow.

your quaint little bakery tucked away in the cosiest of street corners in downtown musutafu had been the creme de la creme of your life thus far; business booming when you first took off, aged twenty, and has been keeping yours and shinsou’s heads afloat ever since. with your grandmother’s recipe book tucked under your arm, customers travelled from near and far to try the wondrous goods of the cookie crumble bakery ( a name that took you and your purple haired companion half a bottle of vodka to create ).

it didn’t matter where people were from or what burdens they carried on their shoulders when walking into your humble bakery— all that they knew was the welcoming scent of warm manuka honey and freshly baked bread—free of judgement to ease their souls. grownups became children again, finding solace in classic childhood treats like battenberg cakes and jammy dodgers while teenagers became mature on their first dates; treating one another to a slice of romance in the form of red velvet cakes to share with that week’s allowance. parents became heroes to their children with gapped-toothed smiles when treating them to your healthy, low-sugar goodies that wouldn’t rot through the rest of their teeth while pro heroes became civilians; relaxed and at ease.

yes, pro heroes.

you were lucky enough to have such esteemed guests visit your place regularly— having been uncovered after the cookie crumble bakery became a popular destination for teachers to give gifts of sweet treats to the pros after visiting schools. Once they had a bite of what you had to offer, the heroes would always come running back for more.

pro hero deku, otherwise humbly known as izuku midoriya, was one of your favourite guests; he found himself addicted to your grandmother’s decadent chocolate brownies after being gifted them by a group of teenage girls he’d saved— coming in biweekly for years to try whatever caught his eye in the display cabinets that day. it was only natural— and pretty fucking typical — for you to have developed a raging crush on the man, falling for the honeycomb freckles on his cheeks and the gumdrop sugar laced into the smiles izuku sent your way, making you weak in the knees as they tugged at your doughy and easily manipulated heart.

you couldn’t help it, izuku was so warm.

made you feel special and gooey on the inside like a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. shinsou would tell you that you were whipped, from the way you gifted the hero with an extra of whatever he was ordering despite the fact that you both knew he could afford it. he was just so warm. yet you were a baker and izuku was a hero and in his world there was never any room for a civilian like you.

so you busy yourself with creams and custards for your favourite glazed danishes— ignoring yourself and your annoying friend shinsou in favour of settling for the position of izuku’s little baking friend.

“your crush is coming, sugar,” shinsou tells you with a lazy smile, leaning over the counter during his break from waiting tables and chatting with the old ladies in the back corner. the ones who love him and give him hard boiled candies and call him sugar.

you jump up from your place behind it, eyes shooting to the door with its charming little bell swinging from side to side— alerting the entry of the pro hero ( who, if any bigger, would break the tiny door frame of your quaint little establishment ) tired from work but a smile still on his face.

“a crush, huh?” izuku hums, lips quirked up curiously, dampening his darling expression— his buff frame joins shinsou in leaning over the counter, strong arms crossed and showing the flex of his muscles from under his teal hero suit. he must have come straight from work to see you, or rather to see if you’d gotten his order finished like you said you would. nonetheless, your heart flutters.

snapping back to reality, you make an attempt to shake your head— waving your arms in protest before your purple haired friend can speak for you again. you fail. “little yn has a crush on someone, don’t you?” his eyes speak for his teasing tone.

“oh yeah?”

oh no. “definitely not,” you reach over and slap a hand over shinsou’s mouth. apron catching on your display cabinet and making you stumble, body flaming with embarrassment. izuku chuckles. “i don’t have a crush on anyone. don’t be stupid. i’m too busy running this place all by myself.”

you scowl at hitoshi, who only offers you a measly shrug as you slowly pull your hand from his mouth and izuku laughs a little harder at your interactions, having known you both for just over two years.

“ouchie, you know i help you run this place too.” your best friend says to you, winking.

“it’s true,” izuku adds after a slight pause, looking like he was going to say something else before changing his mind. he's grinning now, however. “i’ve never seen anyone entertain old ladies like shinsou does!”

both men give each other a knowing nod. shinsou speaks next. “exactly.”

“what? hitoshi, oh my god...whatever,” you deflate with defeat, withdrawing your body from the two men and avoiding deku’s sweet gaze as if you might melt when he looks at you. “i’m gonna go and grab your cheesecake izuku...neither of you, try to get into any trouble while i’m gone,” you let your eyes flicker to the pro hero briefly, allowing yourself to bask in his attention only just before retreating to the back room to retrieve the matcha cheesecake he’d ordered for his mother’s birthday.

you fan yourself on the way there, hoping to cool the heat that flushes through your body from the pro hero’s presence.

izuku is warm, but you’re drawn to his warmth like an ant to sugar.

whenever baking a cake, you advise combining the dry ingredients first.

no matter how many times a day you find yourself doing it, sieving together mixes of flour, salt, baking soda and other dry things is always a process you’ll find soothing. fine combing the ingredients with a sieve whilst adding air to your soon to be cake— much like breathing life into a creation, nurturing the very thing you created—much like love. in a strange metaphorical sort of way,

you were always careful with baking soda however; a teaspoon too much could destroy even the most cared for of things. practically explosive. it could cause a whole cake to blow. it reminded you of those science experiments you would do as a child, mixing the dangerous combination of vinegar and baking soda until it imploded.

much like a certain friend of izuku’s that you knew.

katsuki bakugou was like an explosion, from his hair to the nature by which he worked. you hadn’t known him very well, he’d stopped by the bakery once or twice and other times you’d seen him prowling the streets for villains and other menaces to society— but you’d never given him more than a short wave and nod, in fear of setting him off. it’s not like you could stop him and have idle chit chat about how in love you were with his childhood rival.

“how much longer am i gonna have to wait for this damn cake?” dynamight hisses from a two seated table relatively close to your usual location at the bakery’s counter. his words are directed towards no one in particular, but are brittle and hang in the sweet scented air.

you look up from your place; assembling a box to have the cake ready to go after having it decorated quickly and letting your calm stare settle on the hot headed blonde, bored expression cast over well-aged features. his order had been placed at the last minute and izuku had warned you that his childhood friend was extremely impatient even when it came to the most fragile of things— but you hadn’t minded, it only meant the green haired hero would be spending more time with you during the wait.

“not long now mister kacchan— i mean lord, sorry king, dynamight...sir!” you squeak at the mean glare he sends your way, shifting his upper body so you have his full attention. your eyes shoot to deku’s face, still warm as always, inviting and safe— an apology woven into the green constellations of his own orbs. you hadn’t meant to let the old nickname slip...it was just, izuku had told you bakugou’s childhood name with an air of fondness one night when he’d stayed to help you close up while shinsou lay sick at home. the air and softness to his voice that night was something you just couldn’t forget. “it’s just chilling in the fridge for now… i’ll need it to be cool in order to add the filling between the layers, otherwise it could melt from the heat of the sponges!”

since the cake was ordered so last minute and bakugou couldn’t care less about the type, you’d gone with your grandmother’s classic strawberry victoria sponge—a cake made for any occasion, especially since he hadn’t disclosed that to you either.

bakugou’s ruby gem eyes flick over your form, up and down...up and down...most likely judging you for your chocolate smeared apron and flour dusted cheeks. he tuts, pressing a closed fist into his own, yet, scarred cheek before leaning its respective arm against the table, looking away from you and allowing your body to sag with relief. “damn nerd, been hangin’ around with the civilians way too fuckin’ often,” katsuki says gruffly as he nods his head over to you. “‘specially this one, startin’ to rub off on ‘er,”

the pair of you visibly stiffen, the box you’d been making clattering to the floor from your slippery butter hands and temporarily freeing you from the evil clutches of katsuki bakugou. the nerve of him! to put you and izuku in such a situation; you in particular, one off-handed comment like that and someone, anyone could get the wrong idea. pin-pointing you as the little civilian girl who clings way too much to everyone’s favourite and soon to be number one hero. who knew bakugou could be so upfront? had shinsou blabbed to him? you wouldn’t be surprised, your menace of a best friend usually handled affairs with the explosive pro. ducking your head, you miss the way bakugou smirks knowingly and the way red flares up against deku’s cheeks, bubbling brightly beneath his freckles and creating the illusion of stars against a pink summer’s night sky.

bakugou thought it was funny how oblivious the two of you were and if he was going to be stuck here waiting on a damn cake he sure as hell was going to make the best out of it.

composing himself with a cough to clear his throat, a slap to his rival’s stupid head and a roll of his broad shoulders— izuku picks up the conversation again at a less awkward point. “so kacchan, what’s this cake for anyway? you’re usually not one for sponges,” he asks, and you hum happily to yourself at the cheeky lilt to your crush’s tone. he wasn’t wrong however, in all the times bakugou had visited the cookie crumble bakery; he’d only ever gone for the smaller and healthier options like granola bars or oat and raisin cookies. never anything as pretty nor refined as this.

“s’not for me, y’fuckin’ shit-stick!” the blonde grunts in his own defense, heat flashing across his cheeks as izuku gives him a taste of his own medicine. not so cocky now are you lord dynamight… or whatever the hell your stupid hero name is, you muse in your mind. “s’for kirishima’s welcome home party tonight. he’s coming back from that long-ass mission abroad ‘n racoon eyes said he’d be mad if i didn’t get him a stupid fuckin’ cake for his stupid fuckin’ surprise party.”

“you don’t like surprise parties, kacchan?” deku teases, with a bright smile that you catch in all its glory— smile so high on his cheeks it almost locks away those precious forest eyes you love so much.

“no i don’t like fuckin’ surprise parties, get off my dick nerd.”

the interaction between the two heroes reminds you somewhat of a lover’s quarrel— bringing an amused grin to your cherry lips. “kirishima? as in… the red riot?” you interject without meaning to, your mind away from you as you make quick work of evenly slicing the two sponges in half, piping fresh cream from the centre of the first half — moving outwards. you follow the cream up with a layer of strawberry jam, freshly sliced strawberries and your secret ingredient— white chocolate shavings. you repeat the process smoothly after stacking one layer on top of the other, the boys watching you closely. it was probably for the best that you had interrupted them as well; as though not to disturb your afternoon round of customers. the two stop and look at you, bakugou nodding his head silently. “and you’re throwing a party for him?”

“‘course i fuckin’ am!” the explosive pro looks to you, sending a shiver of nerves down your spine— your incredulous tone having perhaps offended him slightly. or maybe it was because you’d hit a nerve like he had with you and izuku, you would know, you would recognise having a defensive stance over your harboured feelings anywhere.

“that’s sweet of you,”

“whatever,” the silence flickers between you both with bakugou’s seemingly finalising words, and deku doesn’t know if he should step in— feeling an impending explosion from his old friend. but instead, katsuki surprises you by standing from his seat, reaching your shaking form in three short strides to poke his nose in the way you begin to decorate the top layer of red riot’s cake. he points to the way you’ve swirled red food colouring into the cream icing on top, smirk evident in his voice as he speaks. “you a fan or somethin’?”

you blink, surprised, and look behind the large hero to deku, who stands rigid with a face twisted into an expression you can’t quite read. “of who? red riot?” your question earns you a grunt from bakugou. “uh, yeah, sure! ‘m a fan of all of you guys really, it’s an honour that you’re even standing here in my bakery!”

“s’not what i asked, flour girl,” bakugou prides himself in the pun, eyes trained on the delicate way your fingers move to perfect the gift to his friend. “you a fan of shitty hair or not?”

you bite your lip, lifting the hand you’d used to pipe finishing swirls of pink cream on top of the cake ( adding strawberries to each one before assembling the box around the finished piece ) and wipe your brow, thinking of an answer. “y-yeah! i guess i am!” you sigh, breathless with relief.

“then yer invited to his party, shitty hair’d like to see his fans.”

you jump back in shock, flustered that the pro hero is extending an invite to his friend’s party to some plain jane like you, and shake your head vigorously as you let bakugou heave the cake over the glass counter. “oh no,” you excuse yourself as quickly and politely as possible. “i couldn’t, partying isn't really my scene and i couldn’t intrude on something personal like that—!”

your hurried words enter one of katsuki’s ears and fly out the other, an unimpressed mask falling over his defined features. “i weren’t askin’. i was tellin’. yer invited ‘n i expect to see y’there for shitty hair. b‘sides deku’s gonna be there.” the blonde tells you like a stonewall not willing to budge an inch. you’re left with a wide open mouth, floundering like a stupid fish as the great god of explosions and dynamite or whatever the fuck it is leaves your bakery swiftly, accompanied by the swing of the bell.

you turn to deku who only plates up a sheepish grin, fingers finding the back of his neck as he rubs it gently. “i will be there,” he affirms softly, getting ready to leave as well. “it could be fun, just us two and kacchan’s raging crush on kirishima, huh?”

just us two.

“yeah,” you nod, replacing your bewildered expression with a shy smile. “i’ll meet you there, then?”

deku hums approvingly, filling your body with warmth as he approaches the door, offering you a little salute while his hand makes contact with the handle. “i’ll text you the address.”

the warmth is still there even when he’s gone and the words izuku uttered leave tears in your cotton candy heart.

just us two.

the stone path leading up to dynamight’s private neighbourhood and home crunches underneath your combat boots like praline, as you walk towards the source of his welcome home party for red riot. nerves flitter through your bloodstream too, making the fabric of your tartan dress all too tight and a little itchy against your skin.

maybe you should have changed.

the words run through your mind, but are often counteracted by the thought of how much effort you’d put into your outfit just hours before. the fabric of what you wear matches the colour of your crush’s hair— a detail you hoped that deku would notice when you met him in the party. “i look good,” you tell yourself in an attempt of self-reassurance, repeating the praise shinsou had drilled into you hours prior as he helped you to get ready. he could tell how worried you were about going to a party where every guest had some kind of celebrity status and possibly earned more than what your bakery was worth— but you deserved to be there as much as the next person; besides parties were the perfect environments to get to know your crush— apparently. especially if you could get him alone.

that piece of advice, you know hitoshi had pulled straight off of wikihow.

it’s the thought that counts, you suppose.

squeezing the box of cookies you’d caved in, making them as an extra gift, you continue to follow the bass boosted thumping of music towards what your phone told you was bakugou’s place. you’d acquired his address, in a text from your companion deku— your heart practically dropping out of your ass while you buffed out your eyeshadow, forcing your purple haired friend to answer for you. no matter how many times you’d texted izuku for orders and pick up dates, your still heart raced at the sight of the green heart emoji next to his name.

you couldn’t help but wonder if he would be excited to see you too, even though it had only been a few hours since you’d last seen each other— you couldn’t help but dream up scenarios of what your night would be like. would his trusting emerald eyes drop to the form of your outfit? would he compliment you, tell you how pretty you looked and how he was so glad that you came? would you sneak away from the crowds to a quiet room where you’d tell him ‘i like you, izuku,’ and seal the night with a gentle kiss?

it’s this train of thought that helps you reach the mansion much faster; bakugou’s lawn is littered with pro heroes and empty red solo cups alike. you’d never pegged bakugou as the type of guy to throw a party like this— the handful of times that you’d met him indicated that he preferred his own company and that of a select few...but maybe these were the lengths he’d go for someone he cared about. for kirishima.

and it made you think back to those warm forest irises and sun kissed freckles; and how much you’d be willing to do the same for izuku if he asked.

you make your way up to the front door fairly quickly after that; ringing the buzzer and taking the opportunity to peer through the glass windows on either side of the door, checking out the life of the gathering inside while you wait. it seems so fun, with booze flowing and choruses of laughter practically shaking the whole neighbourhood and you shift on your feet at the possibility of actually enjoying yourself tonight.

the door finally opens and you jump, snapping back to the person who now stands before you. a security guard stands in the spot where the door once was— clipboard in arm, dressed in all black. you don’t blame katsuki for hiring security, although they were all pro heroes and could most definitely handle themselves, too many high profile people in one place could definitely become a cesspool for villain activity.

“name and invitation.” the security guard states simply, jaw set in place and beady eyes squinting down at you from behind darkened shades. offering him a polite smile, you give him your name and watch as he flicks through what must be the guest list on his clipboard. his brow raises before speaking again. “you’re not on the list, do you have an invitation?”

“o-oh,” you stutter, brows furrowing. although you had only been invited at the last minute, you would have thought bakugou or at least midoriya would have taken care of any details like this. though, you couldn’t entirely blame them, they were pro heroes above your friends and acquaintances. “uh—can you check again? i’m a friend of izuku midoriya’s…”

recognition sparks within the security guard’s eyes but he doesn’t budge; letting the party bustle behind him. “i just checked, you’re not there.”

“wait!” you squeal as he moves to close the door, suddenly flustered by this new information. “can you just— check again? i should be there, really, i’m a friend…”

“sure you are, sweetheart.” he says rudely, flicking his gaze down to the guest list once more but barely checking through it, finding amusement in the way you sag with defeat before moving to shut the door again.

it’s with this you realise that this guy thinks you’re just another crazed fan trying to sneak into a gathering of famous people, famous heroes with a lame excuse of being their friend. you wonder how many other girls have tried this on hero security before and decide to switch to a different and hopefully more convincing approach.

shoving your foot into the door, you huff and muster up as much confidence as possible, trying not to lose your balance by hopping on one foot and holding the box of baked goods in both of your hands. “i’m the caterer, i made the desserts for the party and brought along some more. i need to check on dynamight’s cake, so if you could please just go and get him so we can clear this whole thing up!” you cry, annoyance slipping through the cracks of your tone but you try to keep your cool and hold up your box, hoping this lunatic will see the resemblance between your logo and the one on your cake box inside.

“you think no one’s tried that excuse before? you’re not on the guest list, you don’t have an invitation. now scram, punk, before i call the police.” the security guard leans down to your height, jabbing a finger into your chest and making you wobble. “you can ask dynamight yourself. in your dreams. i’m not leaving this door for you to sneak in.”

embarrassment starts to bubble under your skin as guests both inside and outside of the party start to notice your predicament— you’re putting up so much of a fight but you don’t even like parties, drawing unnecessary attention to yourself. you’d like to say you didn’t know why, but that would’ve been a giant fib. you’re still here because of your raging crush on izuku midoriya and the way he looked at you with pure excitement when you said you’d see him at the party earlier today.

so you ground yourself, ready to lay one out on the security guard when glass shattering behind him disrupts your flow. the pair of you turn your heads only to spot deku stumbling down the stairs, standing over the shattered pieces of a now broken vase. “oh fuck, kacchan’s gonna kill me,” he giggles to himself with a slight slur to the edge of his words. his beauty is like a ray of hope to this bleak situation— a tight black shirt splayed across his chest and arms, tucked into cargo pants of a matching shade. you’ve never seen him dressed so casually before, tattoos intertwining with the scars his hero costume usually hides.

you can’t help it, voice bubbling up before you can stop yourself. “izuku, hey! think you could help me out?”

“you know this chick, mr.midoriya?” the guard grunts as you make a weak attempt to step through the entryway and meet with the pro hero, forcing you to stop in your place. for a second, your eyes lock with deku’s and it feels as if electricity has started to crackle in the air. his cheeks are rosy just as they were that day in your bakery and your heart hammers in your chest just at the sight of him.

“don’t think so!” he hiccups quickly, smiling big. he’s tipsier than you thought. the world around you crumbles and you feel like a knife has been shoved straight through your chest— stopping the very organ keeping you alive from beating. from feeling. even when drunk, you’re not even memorable to the hero you’d befriended over the last two years. were you really just another civilian? like bakugou had called you back at the bakery, like the security guard thought you were? a cloud of betrayal settles above your head, laced with hurt as you back up on the doorstep. “nice outfit though! the green… ohmygod, the green reminds me of my hero costume!!”

it’s not long until deku becomes distracted by the yelling of his friends located deeper within the party and you watch him stagger away with humiliated tears welling in your eyes. “sorry kid,” the security guard hums, using his size to back you up and out of the door some more. “better luck next time.”

“right,” you say, voice shaking, hurt now twisting through your bloodstream. shifting the box in your grip you shove it towards the guard before he has a chance to lock you out of the party for good. “c-can...can you just make sure bakugou and kirishima get these? i promise… i promise ‘m just a baker,”

you walk away without giving the security guard an opportunity to mock you like you were some stupid fan— quickly making your way as far from bakugou’s house as physically possible, putting great distance between yourself and izuku. it hurts to breathe, the world falling away from you and you feel so silly. to have believed that you were something significant in the life of a pro hero, in the life of izuku midoriya himself. there were probably tonnes of people just like you in his daily routine, providing small and irrelevant acts of service to punctuate his busy days of saving lives.

you were just a baker and he was a hero. you knew that, you always knew that.

you weren’t special to him, like he was to you.

realisation and panic settle in the base of your rib cage, crawling through your lungs and sticking to your throat like webs of black tar. you can’t breathe. you have to get out, you need to go home. the dress you wear, colours of forests and ferns like izuku’s hair and eyes are a pungent reminder of the truth and suddenly feels too tight around your body. somehow you stumble out of bakugou’s gated neighbourhood and frantically search through your mini backpack for your phone; desperate to call shinsou. you could do with his comfort right now.

your best friend picks up after three rings, voice heavy with sleep when he answers. “what in fucks name do you want—?”

“toshi,” you say, holding back a fresh wave of tears just from hearing his voice over the line. “can you come...c-can you come pick me up, please?”

you hear shuffling on shinsou’s end, possibly him sitting up in his bed and adjusting his phone in his grip. “what? why? i thought you were at blasty bitch’s house party—“

“please,” you reiterate, hoping the emotion in your voice is enough to grab your best friend’s attention. you don’t want to talk about your embarrassment for the night, you don’t want to think about it either. “pleaseplease, just come get me...toshi, i wanna go home,”

“text me the address sugar, i’ll come get you.” he tells you sternly, hanging up the phone.

you wait for only twenty minutes in the cool night air before shinsou’s rust bucket rolls up outside the gated community and it takes everything you have in you not to burst into tears once again. your childhood best friend jumps out of his car; hoodie in hand to pull over your head before guiding you back with him and strapping you into your seat.

no words are exchanged as he drives you home, it’s silent when he unlocks your bakery and takes you to your apartment on the top floor. the same treatment is given as he wipes away your makeup, runs you a shower and helps you change for bed. you’re so grateful for hitoshi shinsou, you’d be sure to thank him with baked goods later on when you weren’t numb from crying.

he liked your apple danishes best, the ones without green apples.

you decide as you fall asleep, you’ll always hate the colour green.

after mixing all things dry for your cake batter; you’d usually work on the next step of wet ingredients. a sad mixture of milk and eggs and oil— grim to look at, gross to feel.

you suppose that’s what’s been resonating with you the most recently. getting over your crush on izuku has been one of the most awful experiences of your life thus far— you exaggerate but feel that it’s true. you feel sluggish more often than not, screaming your frustration and tears into your pillows before the day’s begun and you have to open up the cookie crumble bakery for business.

embarrassment, anger and sadness roll in heavy waves over your body— hitting you at the most random moments during the day whenever the party incident comes to mind, making you cringe and retreat to the back room in the middle of serving customers, often leaving shinsou to carry the brunt of your work. he understands for the most part, checking up on you when you’ve been gone for too long or he thinks that you’re crying...but his patience is wearing thin even as your best friend and exhaustion sets itself in his eyebags at a greater rate than usual. there’s only so much that he can take on to be there for you during this situation.

you just want to get over him, stupid, sunny, warm and gorgeous izuku midoriya. forget that he ever held your heart between strong hands and powerful fingers and move on with your life instead of feeling like crap for the stunt he pulled. but for some reason, you find yourself holding on to the slow treks in the evergreen woods of his eyes and his inviting smile, you cling to the moments you’d spent laughing with him over the counter and having him keep you company on late shifts.

you couldn’t let him go even if you tried, even if midoriya hadn’t called or texted you within a week of seeing him shit faced at the party.

even if he hurt you, you didn’t want to be the normal girl who let izuku midoriya pass by without another word.

“incoming at nine ‘o clock,” shinsou mutters to you as he briskly walks past your position at the counter, replenishing the breakfast muffins, and slips into the back room. you barely have time to look at him nor give him your confused frown before the little bell at the doorway goes off and someone steps into your bakery.

whipping your head over at the sound, your blood runs cold at the sight of the man who’s been avoiding you for damn near a week straight. “hey yn,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head and undercut like he always does. deku looks good, sweat lining his brow and cheeks tinted pink as if he’d been out on a run and decided to swing by. your suspicions are correct when you get the scope on his outfit, plain khaki shirt and grey joggers— showing off everything he has to offer.

but you won’t allow yourself to be tempted, building walls up and around your cookie cutter heart. “mister midoriya,”

“c’mon yn, please don’t be like that,”

“‘m not being like anything izuku,” you sigh and you can see his posture sink a little as you continue your work of filling up the trays of sweets in the display cabinets. spending way too long fixing details that don’t need fixing— anything to keep your gaze away from the face of the hero who could crush your heart if he wanted to.

the hero’s mouth opens and closes as he ponders his next words— not used to the way you give him a cold shoulder. “then please don’t ignore me,” izuku says with a pleading tone and you mentally curse shinsou for leaving you alone with him, already wanting to plunge back into the swirling sea of dartmouth twinkling in his orbs. “i want to apologise to you, for the other night…and just...try to explain things,”

stopping your work, you glance up at deku and wait for him to speak. “go ahead,” you say expectantly, giving him a chance before you change your mind. part of you can’t help debating it briefly...if he’s undeserving of your forgiveness, especially after how you were treated by both him and the guard who’d humiliated you— while the other doesn’t want to be trapped in this fog of resenting izuku.

he takes a minute, taking out his headphones and pausing his running playlist, you wonder if he’d taken a run today to sort through his words, adding your bakery to his usual route. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said to you that night,” deku starts, idly fiddling with his fingers. “you know i wouldn’t ever forget you on purpose and if i had known kacchan hadn’t figured things out with your invite...if i hadn’t been so drunk either, i would have vouched or left with you. i was just so drunk that i lost my head and...hurt you in the process,”

you mull over his words as they feed at all parts of your heart, making you want to forgive izuku—and you could. you could if he knew exactly how he made you feel and acted accordingly. cracking each of your fingers in preparation to spill your guts out to deku, you take a deep breath. “you really did hurt me, izuku...you made me feel small, insignificant,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper so that your early morning guests can’t hear. “like i was unworthy of being your friend? purposefully or not it felt like you didn’t want to know me and despite how long we’d known each other...like i was just another civilian in your life. it really sucked, especially when you didn’t reach out to me after,”

there’s a beat of silence as the weight of the world lifts from your shoulders, and you already feel so much better having expressed how you truly feel.

“i’m sorry,” izuku whispers to you again, reaching over the counter to grip one of your hands. “i value your friendship so much, and hurting you, someone i care about, is one of the worst mistakes i’ve ever made. it’s no excuse for me to have been so drunk, i never get like that and so fast…wish i had a better explanation for you aside from the fact that i was nervous.”

you feel the sentiment to his words, but there’s a burning question on the tip of your tongue. “i think i can forgive you, i just need to know why’d you drink your nerves away?” you ask him light-heartedly.

izuku taps his nose, shaking his head but relief floods his veins at your willingness to accept his apology. “can’t say, it’s a secret for now.”

at that you smile, he may not be ready to tell you now but you’ve had enough of the heavy stuff to last you. just glad that muggy feeling is no longer crawling down your spine. there’s a flutter in your rib cage, like a butterfly from izuku’s forest has been set free in your body when you realise your hands are still linked and shyly pull away— both of you with flustered expressions. deku steps away from the counter, ear-splitting and a golden smile on his face as he stumbles over the nearby table, alleviation hanging in the air between you.

“i should uh, get going. i’m so sorry again,” he tells you, abashedly trying to fix the chairs and table he’d tripped over. “hero duty calls!”

“quit apologising, nerd and get outta here,” you giggle, heart squeezing at the adorable nature of your friend. although you know that despite the hiccup...your feelings for him are still there.

giving you a nod, deku quickly makes his way to the door— ready to walk out when he stops and waves to you for attention, seemingly remembering something. “oh and before i go! could i place a quick order? i need some cupcakes and other treats for a baby shower. for a girl friend of mine. i really can’t stay much longer to discuss the details! but i’ll text you?”

and then for the second time, involving the one and only izuku midoriya and the clutches of your feelings...your world breaks like shattered glass and egg shells. a girlfriend. your crush, the man you’ve been pining over… has a girlfriend. and you feel as if you’ve been pushed right back to square one. being insignificant enough to have been forgotten and not been told about izuku’s brand new relationship. what did it matter though? you were only his friend. this whole visit, this whole week apart was probably to plan a gentle way to break down the news to you. and still deku let you pine over a lost cause. you barely have time to respond to him before izuku is out of your shop and down the street— leaving you to revel in the massive blow he’s just delivered to your achy-breaky heart.

a girlfriend. someone you’ll never be for him.

“so i take it that went well?” shinsou asks you cheerily, hand on your back as he emerges from his hiding spot in the back room. he pats your shoulder once before returning to the sweet old ladies he usually waits on— without a clue of what’s just happened up front.

you stare blankly, feeling broken yet again as you look to the order text izuku has just sent you.

“yeah, it went splendidly,” you mutter weakly to yourself, clutching your chest as your heart crumbles to pieces in its place.

weeks go by and barely anything has changed.

despite apologising for hurting your feelings that night; deku’s actions fail to replicate his words and you bottle up poisonous sips of resentment towards him. you can no longer look into his eyes whenever he’s around, you stop seeing lush mint forests and fairytale land but instead stormy sage waters swirling with inner hatred. you can’t stand to look at deku knowing how much of a fool you were to think you could mean something more to him, to have fallen for him.

you throw yourself into working alongside shinsou, keeping yourself busy with baking and packing orders around the bakery. but your heart remains stung despite every cake you ice and every cookie you bake...it was hard and it didn’t help that izuku came around almost every other day thinking that your friendship would proceed on a normal level. you knew that if you lost izuku it would be your own fault; for letting your feelings get in the way of being there for someone so important to you— someone who’d taken their bare hands and forced you apart to make home in the shell of your body and your life.

he acted as if the air between you hadn’t changed and that the cells in your body weren’t trying to force him out and reject his sweetheart candy persona. how could he? when every second spent in the four walls of your bakery he was asking for another one of your specialty bakes for another special occasion for the girl of his dreams that he’d forgotten to tell you all about. a birthday, a baby shower, whatever it was that the hero needed; you baked it for him. and it could have been so easy to tell deku no, but you were too far gone in the candyland of love to say it.

and like the final stage of baking a cake was the icing, your final straw with izuku midoriya had been the wedding cake he’d asked you to make.

he was marrying this girlfriend of his that you’d never met, having a baby with this girl you’d never met.

it hadn’t taken you long to lock yourself in the back room; forcing yourself to work in izuku’s new commission for nights on end. your customers missed you, shinsou would tell you after closing up shop at eight pm and joining you in the kitchen— but there were no words, positive ones at least, that could roll over your tongue to make conversation with. your best friend worries for you, you know that, it hurts for him to not be able to console you in the way that you need— to soothe the burn left by izuku midoriya from his hot sugar grip.

you need closure and that’s why he makes the call.

for you it’s just another night; working on this stupid fucking wedding cake that makes you want to scream or burst into tears just by looking at it— makes you want to smash it to pieces as you layer sponge on top of sponge— smoothing the surfaces over with homemade cookies ‘n cream buttercream. working quietly, you don’t miss the way the doors to the back room creak open and the heavy footsteps that come with it.

“i already told you toshi,” you mumble, annoyed, letting your words twist with the still chill air. “i’m fine, i just want to get this stupid wedding cake done so i can go home and never have to see izuku midoriya again!” you feel triumphant by the end of your words, finally admitting the root of your sadness to yourself and your best friend— thinking that with this cake would come the last of your romantic woes. but something about the stillness to the room feels off, it lacks the crackle of a sarcastic comment from your best friend… something along the lines of ‘about time’ and ‘i knew it’. the words never come and the foot steps you’d heard earlier make no attempt to come closer to you.

it’s the silence that makes you look up.

and when you do, you’re met with fern hair and forest eyes and the constellations of cancer written across well aged cheeks. “izuku,” his name falls from your lips like a forbidden word and as soon as the warmth in your heart comes, it goes. you turn back to your work— focusing on crumbling more cookies to pair with your italian meringue buttercream.

“hey,” he says gently, as if what he says will break you. “shinsou called, he’s worried.”

and you care? is what you want to ask him, is what you fight with your tongue to say and swallow it down. because for weeks all izuku has done is take and take and take from you. surely he knew that he was the last person you wanted to see right now. so it’s silence that wins, that you choose and you return back to making the frosting.

deku waits for what seems like an eternity for your reply, but steps closer to your table and workstation when you don’t— sighing. “i’m kinda worried too, yanno,” are you? “...you’ve been so busy, i’ve barely seen you as of late. i just want to make sure you’re okay,” they all seem like sweet little lies, spun like cotton candy to muffle the loud noise and pain in your ear but you continue to stay silent.

reaching you, the pro hero takes a stance opposite you— looming over the other side of your work table while a heavy quietness bounces in the distance between your bodies, punctuated only by the sounds of your ingredients mixing. “i’m sorry.”

“do you even know what you’re apologising for?” you yell brokenly, finally piercing the tension flooding through the room with your butcher's knife— letting it rattle against the walls and push both you and izuku up against them. “do...do you even know what you’ve done?” the tail ends of your words are much quieter this time, and you watch as deku steps back— frightened by your outburst. remaining mute, his eyes search yours frantically for an explanation before you have to give one to him yourself. because if he doesn’t, it’ll show you that he truly doesn’t know how he hurt you and somehow; that causes a brighter pain to sting at the candied organs in your chest.

“i—“

dropping your spoon, you clap a hand over your mouth, begging the higher power that izuku doesn’t see the way your lips tremble as if you’re going to cry. “oh god,” your voice is muffled and weak, “you really don’t know… oh god i’m so stupid,” izuku doesn’t reach out for you nor does he make a move as you pull back away from the table. “you use me, get a girlfriend and keep on using me to make these little gifts and treasures for her that she’ll remember for life...when i was here, falling for you this entire time. and i thought you felt the same… i thought that you knew…i thought that you knew that i was in love with you...”

you gasp; confession to your crush out in the open before you can grab its tail and prevent it from ever coming out. all at once you feel crushed and humiliated— shooting your gaze away from the situation.

“you’re in love with me?” deku breathes steadily, but you don’t dare to look at his face for the way he might pity you.

shaking your head and blinking away salty tears, you sigh. “i think you should go back to your fiancé. i don’t know why shinsou called you. you don’t need to be here,”

“fiancé?” izuku chuckles wetly into the cool air filling the room, making you look at him. the corner of his cadmium orbs are creased with laughter lines and his lips are pulled back into a gentle grin. you feel demeaned, how could he laugh at you at such a time? “you mean ochako? oh my god…the stuff you did for me? you mean the babyshower and the wedding cake?”

“who?” you ask sternly, quickly wiping at your eyes and cheeks. “what?”

deku leans over the table to get a better look at you, frowning at your tired and puffy eyes but still looking at you with all that warmth he has for years. “ochako’s a friend from highschool, she recently got engaged to another friend of mine, iida— after finding out they were pregnant,” he explains to you softly, hoping that your sniffles calm down. “they hadn’t had the time to organise everything on their own, but i knew your bakery and its goods would go down a treat at their baby shower and wedding, so i took the liberty of ordering for them myself. they’re traditionalists, they just got everything in the wrong order.” he jokes at the end.

and just like that, the realisation clicks. “you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“no, yn,” izuku laughs again, rounding the table to grab your wrists— towering over you, with a gaze so fond as he directs it down at you. “ochako isn’t my girlfriend, nor my fiancé. i was kind of hoping someone else would want that spot,”

“that so?” your tummy churns, butterflies fluttering throughout but your body flushes with stupidity. you think back to weeks ago, when deku had asked you to make something for a girl friend of his— he had literally meant a friend who was a girl. what an idiot, you think to yourself, misreading izuku’s poor wording like that and causing all this grief.

the air shifts and you feel izuku’s familiar warmth surrounding you despite the cold in the back room. the hold he has on your wrists tightens and pulls you into the firm of his chest— not caring if you stumble. letting one of your wrists go, izuku tilts your head by your chin up to face him with just a thumb and a forefinger.

“i love you,” is what he answers you with, “you’re the one that i want,”

before you can say anything else to his confession, midoriya presses his lips against yours in a gentle chaste kiss— causing you to let out a muffled ‘mmf’of surprise. the action is sweet but all too short, with his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he pulls it back gently; giving you the choice to either kiss him or pull away. you need his lips on yours again, that insatiable hunger for sugar and dopamine driving you forward as you kiss izuku for a second time— tongue grazing over the swell of his lips, fingers tangling in the wildness of his hair to keep him close to you. deku welcomes you into his mouth with a sweet sigh, arms dropping to your waist and his large hands squeezing your hips.

your tongues work together instead of fighting, sliding across one another in a deep lover’s kiss and deku takes your lip lock as the opportunity to lift you onto the metal table— being mindful of your cake and work. “‘m sorry,” he says into your mouth, kissing you with more fever, growing handsier by the second.

“what for?” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his baby hairs— arching into all of midoriya’s touches.

one of deku’s hands moves to cup your jaw and the other to undo your apron from behind your back, making your breath hitch. “for hurting you, i didn’t wanna,” his nose brushes against yours and you can feel his peppermint breath against your cupid’s bow. “‘n i still did it...twice,”

you lean up to give a quick smooch to the pro hero before you, hands feeling out the bulk of his muscles from his shoulders to his slender waist— mapping out his body and basking in the reality that he is yours. “then ‘m sorry too, for making this situation what it was,” you breathe weakly, licking your lips nervously.

deku shakes his head, forehead resting against yours. “if it weren’t for you, i wouldn’t have gotten my shit together to tell you that i love you,”

your body vibrates at the three words. he loves you. the very sound of the syllables sets a fire alight in your lower belly and all you want to do is be close to him—press yourself against him and just feel everything that is izuku midoriya. you let him pull off your apron and push the cotton shirt you wear underneath up and over your head, his scarred hands are warm against your exposed flesh as they pinch at your sides. deku drops his lips from yours to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, some nip at your skin causing deep bruises to blossom underneath your skin— marking you in a signature of his name with midnight blue and purple ink. the others are wet, izuku’s tongue curling over spots of your flesh looking for the ones that are most sensitive.

you flinch when his heated pink muscle flicks over your pulse point, nails only just scraping the surface of your shoulders. all of a sudden, izuku clamps down with his teeth on that same area— pulling a shaky gasp close to a moan from between your plush rapturous lips. “oh? sensitive here, babydoll?” the hero asks you, darkened eyes twitching up to your face. you can only manage a nod, tilting back your head and creating more room for him to work another mark into your skin. his hair, soft and fresh-scented, tickles your neck, heightening your responsiveness to his activity at your throat. “you’re so pretty here, with my marks on your skin. wonder how pretty the rest of you looks,”

“y-you can see it, take it if you’d like,” your head tips back in offer, at his words, giving him more room to cast his claim in bruises across your neck and shoulders. his praise rattles in the base of your ribcage and disrupts your candied heart in its place, sending it into a series of flutters. “i’m yours now,” using a single knee, deku pushes your thighs apart, letting him lead your body into position… trusting izuku, you follow him willingly into the forest, just as you would with anything.

this time he catches you before you fall, with ghostly soft touches and gentle whispers— he pulls you by your thighs to the edge of the metal table until your bodies are close enough that you can lose yourself in the towering trees and lush green. you watch with innocent eyes, while the darkness takes over the woods in deku’s own, embers of lust starting to burn at the outer edges of an evergreen eutopia.

“i want you to be mine, in ways that no one else can have you,” deku tells you seriously, an expression of clement hunger smoothing over the mask of his freckled face. the forest fire burns even brighter, catching on mosses as your hands reach up to twirl with baby locks of the hero's hair. casting his gaze down, a little off to the left, deku takes a deep breath and lets his large hands slide up to the band of your bra—you choke on air tinged with the scent of him, thinking that he’ll remove it— but instead, cautious thumbs slide under the lavender and flower designed lace and rubs where your breast meets your ribs. you realise there, that the green haired hero is asking in his own way, for permission. “i’ve always wanted you but i was scared, scared to break you and make you crumble with the life that i lead,” izuku’s voice lowers an octave, growing heavier and heavier the more he lifts your bra away from your chest as if he’s weighing up the options of leading you off of the gingerbread pathway and to a place of sin.”i just don’t want to hurt you more than i already have,” he finishes, eyes fluttering shut.

cupping deku’s face now, you brush your thumbs over his stardust cheeks bringing him down low to lick the luminous orange flames of his fire— to soothe the burning and the hesitation he feels. “you can’t hurt me anymore, izu, you can take me,” you reassure him, pressing a kiss to his cupid’s bow. “we’ve waited this long, i don’t think i can last much longer without having you closer,”

that’s all he needs, all the permission izuku midoriya needs to pull you into the cracklingfire and burn any traces of you that lie unclaimed. “then let me take care of you,” izuku promises, bending to his knees in front of you, the green haired man’s hands slide warmly up the plains of your back—he traces your spine before reaching the clasp of your bra and unhooking it with ease, the material falling at your front. the emptiness of the back room does nothing to hide the beefy groan deku lets out. it could be the air or the fact that you’d managed to pull the sound from his lips that causes goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. you allow him to pull the rest of your bra away, his breath soothing the chill against your tits before bulky arms snake around your middle.

he takes one of your hardened nipples between his teeth, rolling it between them carefully as shiny green eyes shoot upwards to follow your reaction. midoriya smiles around your bud at the way your face twists; nose scrunched cutely and eyes fluttering shut as if you’ve never felt such a sensation, before a quiet mewl escapes you.”izu,” you say pleadingly, not quite sure of what you’ve asked for— your untouched body a playground for the love izuku has to offer. “gimme, more…” at your request, his tongue lolls wetly over the swell of your breast as he takes it fully into his mouth and coats your skin in a glaze of his own saliva. he can taste the vanilla on your skin, it drowns him in waves but adds a lustrous fuel to his fire.

wrapping an arm around the back of deku’s head, you draw him into the blistering heat of your frame, holding him as he suckles on your tit and starts to grope at the other— massaging the fleshy mound between his thick and scarred fingers, kneading it to coax more of your song and darling moans. there’s awe dotting the ferns of his eyes, dripping like liquid gold from his eyelashes, and when he bites down on your flesh, the point of his teeth draw shapes into your skin.

you squeak like a little nymph and izuku finds himself becoming addicted, savouring how you twitch just for him. “you taste so good, you sound like an angel,” the hero praises you, pulling away from your bruised chest and remaining connected to you only by a clear string of his own spit, “you must be an angel, there’s no way someone like you falls from heaven just for me,” he tattoos the words into the spot between your breasts with similarly wet kisses from before. “you’re my angel now, kay baby?”

you whimper, again sounding like an angel’s song. “yes ‘zu, yours,”

if izuku had been a spirit of the forest, a demon of sorts then maybe you really were the angel that he needed to calm the rustling leaves— or maybe his flames would consume you and your wings whole, causing you to fall. the scalding heat of his mouth works on your unattended breast—giving it the same loving treatment that makes you writhe against the work table, nearly knocking the frosting you had been working on away. curiously, izuku releases your nipple, one hand beginning to graze your cotton panties from underneath your uniform skirt, your last item of clothing remaining. the one by your chest dips into your cookies ‘n cream frosting, beginning to smear it over your untreated breast. it’s cold and sticky on your skin, contrasting between the temperature that rises between the two of you.

“zu, s’cold,” you mumble, starting to curl in on yourself, gripping the shoulder of his shirt tightly to ground yourself. deku hums in content, latching onto your chest again where he's painted you like a canvas with the icing and the vibrations shoot straight through your body, down to your core—a patch of damp forming at the crotch of your panties from where he’s started to rub at you in sweet circles. “w-wait izu,” you simper, tone of your voice small and precious as the pro hero squeezes your clit, tip of his finger running over the length of your clothed slit. the sensation that builds in the depths of your core, like a pressure waiting to be relieved.

pushing a finger against your entrance from over the material, izuku watches in fascination as the spot of your arousal grows darker and larger, sweet honey seeping from between your folds.”what is it, babylove?” he asks you, as puffs of his hot breath begin stimulating your sex, your hips jump up against your will— body overcome with the fire.”does it not feel good to be touched like this?”

escaping from your hold, the pro hero finally falls to his knees in front of your parted legs— pulling his working digits away from your stained panties in awe, a thick string of clear essence being the only thing that connects him to you now. “i’ve never…” you pant, heat prickling underneath your skin like a thousand tiny stings. a feeling that's foreign and painfully seated just above your abdomen, desperate to be licked and soothed by izuku and his flames. “please, i’ve never..” if he would just explore the woods of your body then maybe you could garner some relief, but only feel taunted when the pro hero swipes more of the frosting against your panties and slots his mouth against your aroused cunt, tongue darting out to suck on your juices through the sticky material.

“c’mon sweet girl, spit it out, you can tell me,” izuku coos into your slick, groaning with debauchery at your taste. his nose bumps at your sensitive clit, sending waves of bright and brand new euphoria through your body.

“i’ve never been touched like this before, izu,” you squeal out at last, letting the syllables rush out of your mouth underneath slurs of pent up saliva— not even bothering for a pause in the middle. the green haired male pulls back from the solace between your thick and doughy thighs, eyes widening with shock as he realises how much of your innocence he’s burned away through forest fires already. a thick smog of ash and lust hangs heavily in the air with the weight of your next words. “i’m a virgin…”

“you’re a...you’ve never…” he dares to ask, rubbing smooth circles into your thighs, your skirt falling back into place over your sex. the fabric does nothing to hide the saccharine scent of your puffy and potentially virgin folds, and midoriya feels himself twitch with cupidity in his pants at the thought of being the very first into your garden. visions of you opening up for him like a blossom against his forest floor makes the blood pumping through deku’s body swelter with an undying need to take you; he wants to be the first to have you break and fall apart against his fingers and cock and maybe his tongue after everything he’s put you through. he almost feels undeserving.

“no,” you turn your head away from your newfound lover abashedly, liquid shame brimming in your eyes. “t-there was only one time in college with shinsou, we only used our hands but he...he was the only one who got to...to cum…”

izuku grunts in disapproval at the thought of your sweet cunt being touched by anyone besides him— even if it had been before he’d even met you. standing once more, the pro hero cups your cheeks with his sex tainted hands and brushes away your tears, thumb slipping passed your strawberry licorice lips and forcing you to taste the mix of your essence, frosting and tears. “no need to be embarrassed babydoll,” he says, dazed and distracted by all that you are.

fuck.

you’re so pretty, so obedient sucking on his digits with hesitant doe eyes. “we can fix that, yeah?”

you nod around his thumb until it's clean and hum with anticipation. “uhuh,” you mumble, blindly trusting izuku—because he’d promised never to hurt you again, because you knew that he would take care of you.

“good girl, now let’s get you out of the rest of these clothes, babylove.” deku pulls his thumb from between your lips, chuckling at the pout that smooths over them and leans down to capture them in a kiss. his scarred hands make quick work of pulling off your skirt and peeling away your panties that stick to your sex. you shiver when cool air hits your bare cunt, crying out for something to keep you warm. izuku knows that you yearn for his fire in the woods to drag you in and take your spirit as prisoner— so he rushes to shrug off his t-shirt before uniting your bodies and wrapping one arm around your shoulders, keeping you to him, the other dipping to toy with the treasure locked between your plush thighs. “shinsou used his fingers on you, right?”

“yes,” you say breathless, drawn to deku in a similar way a moth is to a candle flame, basking in his heat. “but i didn’t get to cum,” you remind him.

only then does the green haired pro send you one of those smiles, the ones where the constellations on his cheeks shone bright... the ones that you had always believed were saved especially for you, making you feel warm inside, because now you knew that they were. “then i’ll have to show you what it’s like to have a real man’s fingers pleasuring you, angel. you’ll have to wait a few dates before you get to feel my tongue on you though, baby,” deku whispers a breath’s width away from your ear, sending shivers down your spine as the calloused tip of two of his fingers circle your soaked entrance. “give me your hand angel, let me teach you,”

you writhe nervously against the metal table, dropping your hand to join izuku’s at the entrance to your awaiting cunt and let him guide your smaller-than-his fingers to your swollen clit. rubbing smooth circles into your back, your tits pressed salaciously against his sweaty pecs, the hero instructs you to draw dainty shapes onto the puffy nub, letting you jolt in his arms and grip his flexing bicep. “hah, zu...that feels nice,” you babble clumsily, brain growing hazy as the first shocks of ecstasy filter through your bloodstream. “zu...s’supposed to feel that good?”

your question makes him wonder how innocent you really are, if it's so much so that you’d never even buried your baby fingers into your own cunt and gotten off before...maybe with the success of your bakery, you just didn’t have the time. his chest swells with pride and his cock with need at the idea of being the one to knock you down a few pegs of purity— another sinner’s smile pulling at midoriya’s bruised lips. “of course it is, little love,” he chuckles, aiding your hand in stimulating your honeyed bud faster, helping your flower to bloom, more of your arousal to gather in your pussy lips. “oooh you like that don’t you? ‘course my little angel does, so naughty. just wait until i stuff my fingers inside that darling lil hole of yours.”

“don’ wanna wait, wanna feel you inside me now,” you drawl with impatience and teary doll eyes, yet again, lifting your hips as you ink star shaped patterns onto your sex. “‘m wet for you izuku, i know that… i can take your fingers,”

the hero spreads your folds with two digits, looking eagerly with darkened chartreuse orbs as your viscous juices pour from your empty hole. “fuuck baby, you talk so dirty for someone who hasn’t been fucked before,” duku grouses erotically— far more turned on than you’d thought. “spread those thighs, that’s it...nice ‘n wide babylove, keep playing with your clit for me...so fucking pretty…” you do as he says, legs nearing the edge of the table as you roll your clit to your heart’s content, lewd sounds echoing throughout the room as deku eases a single digit past your entrance—immediatley curling it to get a feel for your velvet walls.

“ohmygod—fuck ‘zu,” comes your needy whimper, the grip you have on his bicep tightening, nails digging crescent moons into his manuka honey skin.

“yeah? you like that? how do you feel ‘bout ‘zuku giving another?” he says and pushes his lips into a mock pout while concentrating hard on making you see stars, airily asking himself more so than you as he slips another digit into your hot cunt alongside the other—scissoring them in order to stretch you open and prepare you for his cock. “grab hold of my wrist, want you to control how fast or slow i fuck this pretty little pussy with my fingers, kay?”

an answer barely escapes you aside from a weak nod— following deku's gaze to the way your sex sucks him in and covers him in all of your liquid. it’s so dirty, the way the pro hero lets you control his hand,practically riding his fingers and grinding the seat of his palm against your clit, the action dragging you through the winding trees of ecstasy. he curls them against the spongy spot deep within your walls, making your thighs twitch and eyes cross lewdly. every thrust of his fingers earns a gush from your little cunt, weeping at the stimulation.

deku thinks you’re the most precious little thing, a delicate fairy tucked away into his neck—breathing heavily, strings of saliva hooked to the roof of your mouth while you grasp and grip his body for your taking. he mumbles sweet nothings into your hairline things like ‘that too fast, sweetheart?’ or ‘tell me if it’s not enough, babylove,’ his sweet honeysuckle words sending tingles down your spine and fluttering through your sex— deku stroking you into the shape of him.

the weird feeling in your belly from earlier returns, building up in slow stacks and twisting like rope inside of you. izuku holds you to the edge for hours, or that’s what it feels like— pumping scarred digits in and out of you at an impressive speed, telling you it would feel better if he made you wait for what was to come. “so tell me, is it true that he never made you cum like this?” the pro hero’s voice drops an octave, deep and rich like expensive chocolate and he shakes off your hand around his wrist, taking control of the pace at which you’re given pleasure.

“feels weird ‘zuku,” you cry, tummy starting to burn with every push of his fingertips againstyour g-spot, relentlessly scissoring their corresponding digits inside of you every time. “s’too fast, can’t… don’t think i can hold it..!” your legs shake violently, willing to close but izuku pins one down to the table and casts his gaze to where your body meets his hand, watching eagerly for something to happen.

“let go for me now, promise it’ll feel so good,” midoriya sighs and a scream tears in the base of your throat as the rope in your tummy finally snaps and the weird pressure that had been building up finally shoots out of you— more specifically from your sticky and squelching pussy. eyes rolling to the back of your head, clear liquid spirts from your sex in streams, pooling underneath your ass and running down the length of your slit— sliding between your lower cheeks. deku doesn’t stop even though you’re overstimulated and gushing like a river, thumbing fast and random shapes into your raw clit until your stream stops flowing and finishes splattering against your thighs along with izuku’s pelvic bone and hand.

you can’t stop shaking through your release, which pools on the floor and beneath your bum, allowing deku to cradle you into his bare chest and rock you in his arms until you’re grounded. “good girl, did so well,” soft praise is not wasted on your ears as you nuzzle into his addictive, sweet and tooth rotting warmth. “my virgin baby’s a squirter, huh?” slowly but surely, the hero lets you go to take a peek between the globes of your thighs— watching your face for any signs of discomfort when he touches you. his forest hair tickles your inner thighs when he dips his head to your cunt, grunting at the overstimulation when his tongue traces your folds to clean up your orgasm— making you grip his hair harshly.

and when izuku stands up and gives your cunt a second to calm down— his lips find yours in an overheated kiss that sets your body alight for him once again. under the mint sherbet flavour on his tongue, you find yourself. like candy and rock salt laced with izuku’s taste, unlike anything that's ever graced your tastebuds before.

the kiss lasts very little before the hero pulls away, fingers twisting with the knot on the grey sweatpants that he wears. a dark spot grows on his front from his leaking tip, cock hard against his inner thigh. you frown, wondering how long deku had been like that as he tended to you. how was he able to hold back? you surely would have lost your mind in his position— while your heart feels bad for leaving him alone and unattended, what’s left of your working conscious craves to see what hides behind izuku’s waistband and your mouth waters at the very thought. before your mind can catch up with your hands, you reach for his v-cut hips and attempt to run your fingers over his prominent dick print, yanking at the grey fabric to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

“fuck, love,” izuku hisses, letting you roll down his sweats and boxers in one go, but snatching up your hands before you can jerk him off. “wait, just wait baby��”

he places your hands on his chest, the deep green of his eyes form a stern warning of ‘no’, despite the heavy heat waves of desire that radiate off of his well-built body. drool pools on the palette of your tongue as you watch his cock slap against chocolate and carved abs, precum smearing between them and his tip an angry shade of ruby red from arousal. “but izu..wanna help you like you helped me,” your lips push into a tempting pout, accentuating the devoir in your tone.

but deku continues to shake his head, his heart beating rapidly deep within the twisting timber land of his ribcage— protected by oakwood and tree branches that only you can figure out a way through. “another time babylove, when i’ve gotten a chance to take you on a real date,” he sighs, an immodest sense of agony drawn across his features and sewn into freckles. your heart soars and beats hard in your pussy, succulent hole clenching and causing nectar to drip from your forbidden flower. izuku fists his cock with one hand as he gently pushes your body back against the cool metal table, your back arching away from the frigid feeling giving him an erotic view of the soft mountains of your chest bouncing ever so slightly.

once you lay flat on your back, the hero presses his body over yours— trapping you between the cold surface and the blazing temperature of his body as if he were the sun… accompanied by his abs rippling against your tummy and hardened shaft sliding between your scalding, drenched folds. deku’s sticky tip skims dangerously over your bud, rewarding the silent back room with a pair of overwhelmed and eager moans. both of your bodies tremble, tortured from holding back. your hand searches for deku’s in the tangled heap of firewood limbs, fingers link during the sloppy afair of your grinding sweaty bodies— and you think you might cum again, just from the quiet whimpers your lover breathes into your ear and the sensation of him pushing his hard on against your quivering sex.

“want me to put it in now, baby?” izuku coos, his words are like delicate icing against your skin but his eyes speak of carnivorous obsession when he pulls back to look at you... as if he’s going to bathe you in every sense of him and drown you through your mind, body and soul. the keen smile he gives to you when you nod a little, warms your heart, to know that he loves you this much. “s’gonna hurt a little bit, so let me know at any time if you want me to stop, you got that?” giving deku’s hand a squeeze in acknowledgement, your breathing deepens as he lines his cock up with your entrance, tapping his tip against your virgin hole before pushing against it, slipping into you with a slight resistance.

you don’t want to resist anymore, you’ve spent so long running through the woods and away from its demon that carried your feelings for izuku that you’re so tired of trying to push him out. tears, salty, begin to well in your eyes at the pain of deku’s cock breaching your walls for the first time— the weight of him burns almost uncomfortably, he’s so much bigger than you anticipated and you dig your nails into his skin, enough to draw blood, in order to cope as you whimper wetly. “izuku!”

“shhh babylove, i know…’m so sorry. i know,” deku tries to comfort you, hating the way you cry for reasons other than feeling good. your pretty eyes are screwed shut, locking away the gems he treasures so much. he wants to stop, he should stop— he promised to never hurt you in any way shape or form ever again, but here you are clamping down on him with this tiny and wet virgin cunt...and he feels so fucking good.

midoriya should feel guilty for liking the way your body wriggles under his in slight pain, the way you drip and feel so fucking tight around him even though he’d given you his fingers.. you’re barely even half way down him, trembling legs loose around deku’s waist while he holds his hips back from cantering all the way into you. “it’ll all feel so good in a moment, promise you sweet girl,” deku slurs, already pussy drunk as he manages to sheath another inch into you. suddenly, he perks up with an idea and his fingers that remain free lean away from your bodies and dip into your frosting—he smears it against your neck and valley between your breasts before reaching between your impossibly close bodies and rubbing some into your clit.

“izu...wh-what are you doing?” comes your small voice, a sweet melody to the sluice noises your sex makes with every trace of izuku’s fingers against your frosting covered bud. already you feel looser, velvet walls beginning to welcome his dick instead of reject it, bliss building up in your veins instead of that uncomfortable sting.

midoriya continues to play with you there, easing the burn as he puts out hurtful flames, choking on his groans with every flutter that ripples through your increasingly wet hole. “trust me, s’gonna help, doesn’t that feel better already?” with every circle drawn against you, your juices mixing with frosting, comes another inch of deku’s cock pushing against unused and ribbed walls until he’s right at the hilt, finally buried all the way inside of you. like before, izuku leaves you seated right on the edge of another orgasm, both of you stilling to revel in the way your bodies finally connect and make one whole. izuku waits for you, for the throbbing pain to fade away as your pussy adjusts to his size, pressing butterfly kisses across your face while you stop your run from the forest just to feel. “i’m going to move now, okay angel? it might hurt again,”

“c-can you make me cum, would that help?” you whisper into the chill air, hips shifting beneath deku’s as he starts to draw his own back. a non-committal ‘yes’ is uttered against your neck as he prepares to take you, tongue beginning to roll over your skin to distract you and taste the frosting that covers old love bites. you don’t know what part of your question he’s agreeing to, but you don’t care— for deku brings back the stimulation of your clit right at the same time as his cock pulls away from your selfish walls and stretched out hole. “ohmygod!” you squeal in surprise, a small orgasm washing over your body like waves on a shore, you spill honey and molasses against your gooey sexes, providing deku with the lube he needs to make love to you properly.

“god, you’re so pretty when you’re cumming for me, babydoll…” izuki tells you with a dizzy and seraphic gripe, driving his hips forward to fill you up again. his face ducks into the other spots where he’s laid frosting over your skin, its sweet vanilla flavour tangling with the salt from the light layer of sweat that coats you too. deku makes quick work of licking it up in order to distract himself, because if he sees the way your angelic face twists with newfound arousal and thrill, he’ll lose his mind and fuck you too hard to cope. that or he’ll burst and cum before he’s even had a chance to take you to high heavens. “‘m gonna fuck you now, promise to make you feel good.”

looping your arms around the back of his neck and losing yourself in the depths of his soft dartmouth hair, your words come out as susurrant in the darkness of the back room— catching in your throat and trembling towards their end as deku sets a slow and intimate pace to his thrusts. “you could never make me feel anything other, izuku...please give me your all,” you feel his cock pulse, sheathed inside your gummy walls mid-thrust, blood rushing through your body with every passionate rock of izuku’s body into yours. he overwhelms you, the demon in the forest taking your hand and pulling you through the canopy into divine devoir, telling you with the rustling leaves and the groans of your trees, of your izuku...to accept the love and lust he has for you.

tanned skin, cut deep with scars, feels slippery, slick against yours as izuku’s cock takes the dive into your virgin heat— the heavy vein on the underside of his shaft mapping out new pleasure points inside of you and committing them to memory for the next time you make love. the next time won’t be the last, nor will any time after that, because after years of chasing, deku doesn’t plan to let you go. the words hang like mist in the air he breathes over his lips, but his body tells them better, the way he leaks and lines your inner cunt with his aroused signature is enough to say what he can’t.

so instead of speaking, he grunts and groans into your neck, between your bouncing breasts and shoulder blades as he draws on them with dollops of frosting and bites or nips, or sucks it away until blossoms of purple and darker shades form against your sweaty skin. the air around you grows humid, the scent of vanilla and cookies and sinful sex beginning to waft through it. izuku slips in and out of your puckered hole with newfound ease, the clear and gooey strings of your last orgasm clinging to his cock and your puffy pussy lips help to guide him, to follow the channel of your cunt and claim it as his own. “you’re so wet, you’re so good, takin’ a big cock like mine and all on your first try,” deku simpers between the bruising paintings he leaves against you, barely audible against the slow build of skin slapping against skin and your sexes squelching in combination. “can’t believe i’m the first to claim you, gonna be for your first for everythin’,”

although your pupils are dilated and darkened from your epic high on lust, your gaze falls onto izuku’s face and how it twists with impassioned heat, his brows furrowed with concentration while he churns up your insides and shapes your pussy into the form of his weighty girth— making it so that no one can pleasure you the way that he does and that when you look at his face, you only see constellations in the night sky of his forest, ones that tell you… you’re getting high of off sex and balls that slap against the curve of your ass. you’re high off of dopamine flooding your brain with every jam of izuku’s blunt and angry red tip against your g-spot. you’re high off of him and the love you’ve been harbouring for him all this time.

“want you to be my one ‘n only,” you tell izuku earnestly and through hiccuped mewls— your hips lifting to suck more of deku into your cunt now that you can, and the only burn that you feel is the one from his hot body, stuck to yours along with the stacks of delectation in your lower belly. all caused by izuku midoriya himself. you’re grateful that shinsou wasn’t the one to have taken this from you, that you’d steered clear of lonely one night stands and random passionate flings. because all that waiting, all that longing meant that you could share this loss with deku, to start a new path into the untouched clearing with deku.

there’s no one else you could imagine holding you like this, pumping their cock into you so hard that your juices stream from your pussy and decorate his balls, especially when his tip kisses your cervix. there’s no one else you could want, except for him. “n-no one else can have me like this,” you say, earning a stuttered breath from deku.

you feel his cock twitch from your words, curving up to press against the soft spongy spot that has your creamy cunt choking him out. “don’t...d-don’t say stuff like that while i'm inside you baby...makes it so much harder,” izuku whines with tears docking in his eyelashes. he could cry from how good your hole feels clamping down on him. the hard ruts of his hips into yours, strokes of his dick against your molten sugar, gummy walls start to slow into rough grinds— his hips moving in smooth circular motions and pelvis rubbing harshly against your clit. “you make me wanna lose control,” deku can only soothe himself by slathering another patch of frosting against your collarbones, fangs sinking into the flesh and pink muscle scooping up what he’s laid down.

“you can with me, you can do anything you want with me...jus’ wanna feel you izu,” you lament zealously, pushing against izuki’s chest until he’s leaning up right and you’re able to sit up and rest back against your palms on the metal table creaking beneath you. at this change in position, you’re both able to see the exact point at which your bodies meet and witness the sheen of creamy white that’s started to gather at the base of izuku’s cock every time it pumps in and pulls out of your dripping, greedy mound. the pro hero can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight, increasing the pace of his languid rolling hips just to see the way your pussy responds before spitting onto his cock and creating more dirty deluging sounds. the slick paints his strong thighs and stains yours as izuku grabs ahold of them and pins them down to the table to keep you spread.

reaching for the ruined bowl of cookies ‘n cream icing, you dip two fingers into it and move your upper body forward until you’re close enough to drag them over midoriya’s neck and your lips are within inches of latching onto his skin. “f-fuck, sweetheart, what are you doing?” deku mutters, spit pooling on his tongue, ready to drip it onto your sexes as they slap together— the sound echoing through the empty backroom.

“wanna try to make you feel the same way i do, wanna mark you too,” you say, voice barely audible over the way he ploughs into you with new vigor, bullying and bombarding your insides, turning them to nothing but mush and sending shockwaves of delight crackling through your veins. without missing another beat, you latch onto deku’s neck and suck, attempting to paint midnight blue into his skin and lay your own claim.

teeth and tongue abuse the spot on his neck, sweat dotting the pro hero’s brow and adding to the humid bubble surrounding your bodies dancing passionately in the dead of the night. “atta girl, you’re so good to me...shit,” izuku curses into your hairline, large hands going from gripping your waist to dancing up your back so that his fingers are able to grip at the roots of your hair and force you closer to his neck to give him a hickey. the drive of his cock into your sopping pathetic pussy never lets up, making a home for itself in your raw and used sex.

when you pull back to admire the flowering roses of blue you’ve created against deku’s timbre skin, he groans basily from deep within his throat— the sound vibrating through the cavity of his chest and shooting straight down to your creaming core. “you’re gonna kill me with this cunt, sweet girl. gonna ruin me so ‘m only ever thinking of you...is that what you want?” deku practically sobs, enchanting you and tilting your head to face his so he can place a lingering and sugar coated kiss against your wet lips.

his emerald eyes are crystalline with love and lust for you, and you alone, making your tummy warm and your candy cane heart turn to liquid sugar. you can taste the saltiness of tears on your tongue as your mouths slot together perfectly but you can no longer tell whose pellucid teardrops are whose and where they’re coming from as your bodies stay tangled, moving against one another in sticky and sensual movements. “‘s all i’ve ever wanted, for you t’be mine and for me t’be yours,” you say broken down by sheer yearning for the man you’re making love to— accepting harder assails of deku’s heavy girth inside of you.

“then i’m yours, fuck everything else, my heart is yours, angel.” izuku affirms, panting avidly into your mouth as his hands drop to the globes of your ass to pull you back and forth on his dick. after one last dollop of frosting and another delphinium flower sucked into your lover’s shoulder you lean back on your elbows, and match his thrusts with jumps of your hips into his, watching as streams of your arousals seep to the table beneath your bodies. you begin to head down a winding path in the smokey woods, the wildfire from before having surrounded you until your senses are overwhelmed with one another and you’re both climbing to your peaks. “can feel you ‘bout to cum, you’re chokin’ my cock...gettin’ so fucking tight around me,”

“take me to heaven, izuku,” you plead him with glass stained eyes, taking in his rosy star cheeks and his handsome face— a matched expression of craving scrawled across it. “wanna cum on your cock for the first time,” you clamp down hard on deku, pulling small ropes of precum from his tip while you chase him into the blinding white flames— coaxing him to take all of your body as you offer it up to him. you want him to cum, to be the only cause of his pleasure from here on out. “wanna feel everythin’ with you...”

pushing you to lay back, deku cages your body against the table, letting it rock from the sheer force of his hips ploughing into yours as his angry cockhead bares down hard against your cervix. his golden arms flex as they hook beneath your thighs, to drag you up to meet his unforgiving pace and izuku presses his forehead to yours, emerald stone eyes shining with tears beneath artificial white light before he speaks “i can’t— fuck, baby… i can’t hold back...need to cum soon, i can’t fucking hold back when i’m with you,” he stumbles over everything that he says, lips slipping over yours in slow and lazy motions unlike how he pounds into you. midoriya cups your head with one hand, pulling you flush against him and the other descends the planes of your flesh to toy with your clit once more. “i love you so much, you know that right? fuckin’ love you…”

“you love me?” you ask him in a moan, though you already know the answer. you also know that hearing him say it may push you over the edge for the final time. “please say you love me— f-fuck…say you love me, zu,”

brushing a thumb over your left cheek with the hand that cups your head, izuku offers you one of his warm smiles— reminding you of all the reasons you fell for him, reminding you of the sanctuary of your bakery and all the nights in it that you’ve shared. “i love you angel,” he whispers, slipping his lips against yours for one final kiss before the earth beneath you shatters and the gates of heaven open just for you; his tongue grazes yours in the heat of your mouth as his dick brushes up against your g-spot, launching you into your high. you cum hard, the life in your lungs swept away from you as every single one of your neurons fire at once. you moan loud, the sound swallowed by midoriya while his stuttering thrusts guide you through your orgasm— release gushing out of your hole and staining his tummy and pelvis.

you’re still coming around when izuku falls into his own high, his pretty green eyes locked away as they screw shut— whimpers coating his lips like glaze as your spasming cunt leads the way through his orgasm. “cum for me zu, love you s’much...keep comin’ for me,” you coo to him sleepily, love flooding your veins as he humps you desperately and pulls out at the last minute to paint your soft tummy with his potent white seed; letting it slick the spot where your abdomens meet while his cock twitches and softens between you.

silence lays thick in the air aside from your laboured breathing and the soft smooches the pair of you give to one another. izuku chuckles breathily into your neck, using his arms to pull away and hover above you. “it’s about time, huh?’ he says, kissing your nose with a lovestruck grin.

“mhm,” you nod, reaching up to brush your thumbs over his freckles, memorising every one of his details to convince yourself that everything is real and that pro hero izuku midoriya really does love you, the clumsy little baker girl. “it only took us two years, a couple thousand of my bakes and a bowl of frosting.”

“but i wouldn’t have had it any other way,” izuku tells you fondly, finally pulling off of you and helping you to sit up. he’s about to scoop you into his arms and take you up to your apartment above the bakery so that the pair of you can shower and rest; when his phone goes off from somewhere in his discarded sweatpants. locating it and bringing it over to you along with his shirt, he lets you slip on the material and lean over his shoulder to read the text alert— which makes his face flush with red and causes you to burst out laughing.

— INCOMING TEXT FROM HITOSHI SHINSOU:

are you guys done yet? midoriya i know i sent you over to fix my best friend but fucking her a floor below me isn’t exactly what i meant. whatever, just make sure you fuckin’ sanitise my kitchen before opening hours tomorrow. losers.

[nahoney22]

Congrats on 4,500k honey! Now I know you’ve already done this before but please I beg of you can we have some more first kisses with the bad batch? 🥹 it’s okay if you choose not to! Many thanks 💜

First Kisses 2.0

All Bad Batch Boys X Female Reader (can be read as GN)

Warnings: First Cheek and Lip Kisses with The Bad Batch. Mostly Fluff, Spontaneous Kisses, Some Angsty Kisses. Injury to Reader. Can also be read as GN. Not Proofread, A Little Rushed.

Authors note: of course you can bestie! Enjoy! 😚 some fluff before the finale! 😭

First instalment

Echo 💋

On the cheek:

“Echo, I’m fine. Honestly.” You laugh softly, watching as the Clone inspects every inch of your skin for injuries after a very narrow miss on the last mission.

"You narrowly escaped a blast," he remarks, frustration laced with also relief.

"And I owe that to you," you counter, recalling his swift rescue that spared you from harm.

Perched on the control panel, your legs swing gently as he inspects your hand, searching for any sign shrapnel pieces. With a soft smile, you meet his gaze, “Is there anyway I can thank you?” You ask only for your curiosity to be piqued by his hesitation.

His expression shifts, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crossing his features. "I... I'm not sure. You don't have to," he stammers, his composure momentarily faltering under your gaze.

"But I want to," you insist, your eyes alight with sincerity as you hold his gaze.

“Do you… have something in mind?" he asks, his voice betraying a hint of anticipation as he tidies up the supplies.

After a moment's contemplation, an idea forms in your mind. "Actually, yes."

As he stands before you, you extend a finger, silently urging him closer. His eyes widen in anticipation, and he leans in, allowing you to press a tender kiss to his cheek when he’s close enough. "Thank you, Echo," you murmur softly, pulling back to gauge his reaction.

His bewilderment is evident, but a flicker of warmth spreads across his features. "That's... that's okay. Anytime.”

On the lips:

Okay, this time was too close.

In the dim light of your bunk, the weight of the recent mission hangs heavy in the air, amplified by the throbbing pain in your head. Echo's presence is comforting. Yet, he doesn’t say a word to you.

As he fusses over you, checking your bandages a sense of frustration and exhaustion settles over you and unable to bear the silence any longer, you muster the strength to voice your concern.

"Echo, what's wrong?" you inquire softly, your voice strained from the pain, as he prepares to leave your side.

He pauses, his movements faltering as he turns back to you, his expression a mixture of anger and regret. "You could have been killed," he breathes out heavily, his words carrying a weight to it.

"I know," you respond with a weary smile, "but I'm still here."

His gaze softens as he kneels before you, his hand instinctively finding solace in the strands of your hair. "I should have protected you better," he murmurs.

You shake your head gently, wincing at the pain. "You would have risked your life," you remind him softly.

His lips part, a flicker of resolve in his eyes as he meets your gaze. "For you, I would," he admits, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "I... I care a lot about you."

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his confession, your heart pounding in response. "Don't say that..." you protest weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"But it's true," he insists, his gaze unwavering as he lays bare his emotions. "I really care for you."

You fall silent, the weight of his words sinking in, before a smile curves your lips. With a gentle touch, you cup his cheek, silently urging him closer. In a moment of shared understanding, he leans in, expecting another kiss on his cheek. Yet, to his soft surprise, your lips find his, the kiss tender and fleeting.

"I care for you too," you whisper against his lips, the words a promise.

He gasps at your touch, his hand and scomp gently cradling your face as he moves his lips along with yours, knowing that he could never live another day without the feeling of your kiss again.

Hunter 💋

On the cheek:

"Have you found what you're looking for?" Hunter's voice breaks the tranquility as he joins you amidst the foliage, his gaze scanning the array of plants as he kneels beside you.

"Not yet," you reply with a hint of disappointment, your passion for herbalism driving your search for a rare medicinal herb, a desperate need since resources are now scarce since being on the run.

Hunter nods, but a subtle sheepishness colours his demeanor, his eyes evading yours as he fidgets slightly. Sensing his unease, you pause and turn to him. "Hunter, is everything alright?" you ask softly.

He hesitates for a moment before extending a hand, revealing a delicate flower nestled between his fingers. "I, uh, came across this and thought it might look nice in your hair," he mumbles, his words tinged with a rare vulnerability.

Surprised by his gesture, you accept the flower with a smile, touched by his unexpected sweetness. "Really?" you murmur, tucking the bloom into your hair. "That's incredibly thoughtful of you, Hunter. Thank you."

A warmth tints your cheeks before you find yourself leaning in, planting a kiss on his cheek. His sharp inhale of breath at the touch had you pulling back, completely embarrassed by your reaction. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to—" you begin, flustered by your own boldness.

But Hunter's warm smile reassures you, his eyes crinkling with fondness. "I didn't mind at all. I'm just glad you liked it.”

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, a fleeting connection sparks between you both, a silent exchange of unspoken emotions. A shiver dances down your spine as his gaze locks with yours, a subtle tension simmering between you.

Caught in the moment, your eyes inadvertently drift to his lips, mirroring the silent invitation reflected in his own gaze. A shared understanding passes between you.

With a gentle resolve, Hunter closes the distance between you, his breath mingling with yours as his nose brushes against yours.

“Hunter, we are ready to go," Tech's voice interrupts the moment through a comm, breaking the spell that held you captive. With a reluctant sigh, you exchange a brief glance, silently acknowledging that this was not the right time.

On the lips:

In the quiet sanctuary of the ship, you find yourself caught in a spell, twirling the flower in your hair that Hunter had given you, the memory of his gaze lingering like a sweet melody in your mind. From across the ship, his eyes, full of unspoken words, steal glances at you, silent conversation being said.

As the others drift off to sleep, Hunter finally approaches, his voice a low murmur that sends butterflies dancing in your stomach. Leaning against the wall, his proximity intoxicates you, the air thick with excitement.

"We should talk about earlier," he begins, his voice intoxicating.

Summoning courage you didn't know you had, you meet his gaze, your heart pounding with adoration. "Or perhaps we could finish what we started?" you suggest, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

A spark of excitement lights up his eyes, his smile soft. "I like that idea," he murmurs, his hand finding its place on your hip, drawing you closer.

With a daring smile, you lean in, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss that sends your mind reeling. Warm, gentle lips slot perfectly between your own, hands tangling in his hair as you both try to stay as quiet as possible so the others don’t wake up.

Wrecker 💋

On the cheek:

"Hey, do ya want to grab a bite to eat or somethin’?" Wrecker's voice breaks through your thoughts, drawing your attention to his familiar grin.

"That sounds great!" you respond eagerly, accepting his hand as he effortlessly helps you up from the grass before you both set off, the ease of conversation flowing between you.

As you’re walking, you can't ignore the way his eyes had lit up in your presence, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of him liking you more than a friend.

Entering the bustling market, a myriad of tantalising scents fills the air, but your senses are drawn to a fruity and fragrant cuisine. "Wanna try this one?" you suggest, gesturing towards the inviting stall.

"Definitely. Smells delicious!" Wrecker agrees, but before you can reach for your credits, his large hand gently stops you.

"I'll get it. My treat," he insists, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Are you sure?" you ask softly, touched by his gesture.

"Positive," he affirms with a grin.

Grateful for his kindness, you lean up to his height, planting a soft kiss on his scarred cheek. "Thank you," you murmur, the warmth of his smile melting your heart.

Wide-eyed, Wrecker stares at you in surprise, his laughter bubbling up at your unexpected gesture. "Woah! What was that for?"

"For being sweet enough to treat me," you explain with a grin, accepting the food from the vendor as you continue your stroll through the market.

"If a kiss is the price, I should treat ya more often," Wrecker jokes, but beneath his playful tone, you can't help but wonder if there's a hint of truth to his words. Only time will tell.

On the Lips:

The memory of that innocent kiss on Wrecker's cheek lingers, replaying over and over in your mind. Despite its simplicity, you couldn't shake the excited reaction it had evoked from him.

One day, as you meticulously clean your gear and Wrecker's, he enters the ship with a grin, his gaze finding yours before he approaches you. "You don't have to do tha’ for me," he chuckles, taking a seat in front of you and admiring his now gleaming helmet.

"I know," you reply simply, shrugging. "I just wanted to."

Wrecker watches you for a moment, his gaze softening as he meets your eyes, a warmth spreading through your cheeks. "What are you looking at?" you ask playfully.

"Someone pretty," he blurts out, his admission catching you off guard, but you can't help but giggle as he becomes flustered.

"Well, you're not too bad yourself, handsome," you tease, a hint of truth underlying your words. His shy laughter only adds to the warmth that fills the air between you.

As the silence envelops you, Wrecker takes a deep breath, his movements deliberate as he inches closer. "Sorry, I-I just need to try something," he mutters, cupping your cheek gently before leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

Surprised but eager, you reciprocate almost immediately, the helmet in your hand forgotten as it drops with a thud. Giggles escape your lips as Wrecker pulls you into his lap, his kisses igniting a fire within you.

"What was that for?" you ask breathlessly as you finally part, your heart racing with exhilaration.

"I wanted to say thank you for cleaning my stuff," he replies with a playful grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. Sometimes, the simplest gestures can lead to the most unforgettable moments.

Tech 💋

On the cheek:

For days, you've wrestled with the decision to approach Tech about your broken data pad. But his constant busyness always seemed to deter you, and you didn’t want to burden him with your trivial problem.

But as you sit there, struggling with the malfunctioning device, you can't help but feel a pang of frustration. With a sigh, you finally gather the courage to seek out Tech's assistance, despite your reluctance.

Approaching him tentatively, you clear your throat to get his attention. "Um, Tech? Do you have a moment?" you ask, your voice hesitant.

Tech looks up from his screen, his gaze attentive as he assesses your expression. "Rarely. But what can I help you with?"

With a sheepish smile, you explain the issue with your datapad, feeling embarrassed by your own incompetence. But to your luck, Tech doesn't scold or dismiss you. Instead, he nods understandingly, taking the device from your hands with a gentle reassurance.

"I'll take care of it," he assures you, his fingers deftly working their magic as he sets to work on the repairs.

As you watch him, a wave of gratitude washes over you, mingled with a hint of admiration for his skill, something you always admired. And when he finally presents the fully repaired datapad back to you, a sense of relief floods your senses.

"Thank you, Tech," you murmur softly, truly appreciative.

His eyes meet yours, a warm smile gracing his features. "You're welcome," he replies simply, his attention already drifting back to his work.

But before you can stop yourself, a spontaneous impulse overtakes you. Leaning forward, you press a shy kiss to his cheek, the gesture a silent expression of gratitude and affection.

Tech blinks in surprise, his mouth agape but no words come out as he meets your gaze, his expression a mix of astonishment and warmth. "Uh, thank you," he stammers, bashful. Cute. He’s always been cute.

Embarrassed by your boldness, you quickly retreat, a shy smile gracing your lips as you leave.

On the lips:

The next day a cloud of uncertainty hangs over you. Despite the warmth of the moment of kissing Tech briefly on the cheek, a nagging doubt gnaws at you, fueled by Tech's seemingly distant behaviour.

You can't shake the feeling that you may have overstepped, that your spontaneous gesture may have made him uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Tech grapples with his own turmoil, his thoughts consumed by the memory of your kiss. Despite the warmth it sparked in him, a newfound shyness overtakes him, leaving him unsure of how to proceed. He was never good at explaining his feelings anyway and so to express his own feelings, specifically about wanting to kiss you and reciprocate the affection you showed him.

Days then pass of awkward glances and silent hello’s until Tech finally has enough of waiting.

One evening, as the ship settles into a quiet lull, you find yourself alone with Tech in the dim glow of the cockpit.

Heart pounding, you brace yourself for the inevitable confrontation, prepared to face the consequences of your actions. But to your surprise, Tech's gaze meets yours, his eyes filled with a familiar warmth that always made you smile.

"Hello," he begins, his voice soft yet determined. "I have been meaning to talk to you."

You swallow nervously, bracing yourself for his response. “Good, because I feel like I’ve-.” But before you can utter another word, Tech steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek.

"I want you to know," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "that the kiss you gave me... it meant a lot to me."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, relief flooding through you as you realise that perhaps your fears were unnecessary all along.

"Clearly, I have been trying to find the right time to tell you," Tech continues, his gaze unwavering as he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, long-awaited kiss, “that I have wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

Your arms wrap around him, sighing into his kiss with a soft smile that makes your heart soar. His lips were timid yet they were radiating a warmth that made you want more. “All you had to do was ask.” You grin against his lips, melting as he holds you tight.

Crosshair 💋

On the cheek:

Amidst the chaos of a perilous mission, Crosshair's swift actions save you from harm. As the dust settles and the adrenaline fades, a palpable tension hangs in the air, his mood dark and brooding as he glares into the distance.

"Thanks," you murmur softly, your voice filled with genuine gratitude as you meet his gaze when you stand up, brushing the dust from your hands.

But before he can respond, an impulse overtakes you, and without thinking, you lean forward and press a swift kiss to his chiselled cheek.

Crosshair's expression remains impassive, his eyes betraying a hint of surprise before returning to their usual steely resolve. He offers no response, his silence a barrier that leaves you feeling embarrassed at your stupid action.

What a stupid idea.

On the lips:

As you begin to walk away, a surge of longing grips him, an undeniable pull drawing him back to you. With determined strides, he spins you around, his hand gripping your arm as he gazes into your eyes with a mixture of frustration and desire.

"What was that for?" he growls, his voice laced with a raw intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Unable to suppress the rush of emotion coursing through you, you meet his gaze. Soft and almost vulnerable. "F-for saving my life," you reply, your voice steady despite the tremble in your heart.

Crosshair's features soften, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of stoicism. He hardly thinks himself but he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss that has you gasping for breath.

“Crosshair,” you whimper as you melt into his embrace, realising that beneath his moody exterior lay a heart of gold; a heart that beats in rhythm with your own.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his rifle falling from his grasp as his hands grip onto your hips as he holds you close, just taking in the moment that neither of you wanted to end.

Good luck for the finale everyone🩵

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia a @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904 @green-alm0nd

[mandos-mind-trick]

Impulsive Decisions

Summary: A trip to Midnight’s old stomping grounds leaves the Batch’s civilian in a funk. The Batch takes her to 79s to relax, leading to a few drunken confessions. Maybe things weren’t going as smoothly as they had told Cody.

Pairing: Hunter x reader, mentioned poly!Bad Batch x reader at the end

Characters: Reader (written in 3rd person, mc is not named but has an established nickname, no physical descriptions are given), The Bad Batch + Echo

Warnings: NSFW, smut, explicit language, P in V sex, mentions of crime, shitty politics, a bit of PTSD but nothing detailed, some slight medical stuff (reader gets an exam), hinted at sort of slavery (it’s like two sentences), mention of gang wars (again like two sentences), seedy Coruscant underworld, alcohol, reader gets drunk, a reg shit talks the Batch, some heavy feels, discussions of polyamory at the end. 

A/N: This takes place before the first two parts, really focusing on how Midnight and The Bad Batch came together and worked out how their relationship was gonna work. This is also very long. It’s the longest part so far and I’m sorry but there was so much to fit into this one. 

Also in case you’re wondering, I’ve been basing how the Bad Batch looks on Uzuri Art’s depictions of them. Check them out, they’re stunning. 

< Previous | Next > | MASTERLIST

Midnight sits in the copilot’s seat, watching the ecumenopolis get closer and closer. She wasn’t happy about being back. Part of Cody’s spiel about the benefits of joining the GAR was that she would get off Coruscant, and her trips back would be seldom. It had been almost six standard months since she had seen it, since she had signed her life away to the GAR and flown out of the atmosphere with Commander Cody to some distant planet she’d never even heard of to meet her squad. 

She didn’t regret it. 

The cockpit is quiet, Tech’s intense concentration as he pilots a welcome solace. Hunter was shut in his bunk, utilizing the specialized helmet Tech had made. It dampened his senses, gently easing him into sounds and smells of the louder worlds they landed on. It prevented nasty migraines that bloomed when he was exposed to too much at once without warning. She could only imagine what Coruscant was like for him. It smelled and was loud even without heightened senses. 

Echo was also in his bunk. He had looked about as happy as she felt to be returning to Coruscant. He hadn’t been back since his rescue. They were going to see a lot of what they called “regs” over the next couple days. They had a check in with the GAR, and then a couple errands to run. If they were lucky, they’d get some time off to relax before they’d get their next mission. 

Midnight doesn’t expect to do much relaxing on this trip. 

The first thing she does when she steps off the ship is look up. The sky is clear above them, bright and blue in the sunlight. It was the first thing she’d done when she made it to the upper levels with Cody. She’d looked up at the night sky, at two of the moons hanging over them in awe. 

You don’t see the sky where I’m from. 

The closest they got was the clouds that formed a few levels up from the trapped moisture, dumping dirty, sticky rain over the underworld when it got too hot in the sky levels. She’d been in awe when she experienced clean rain for the first time in her training. She’d been laughed at by her fellow trainees when she’d ducked under the nearest ship’s wing to avoid the rain. She had been shocked to find it didn’t leave her skin streaked and sticky. 

“I’m heading to the civilian offices.” She tells the Batch when they join her on the landing platform. “I’ll meet you back here.” 

“Comm us if you need us.” Hunter tells her. It’s the same thing he says anytime she goes off on her own. Not that she went off on her own much. 

She salutes him jokingly, even though he told her that wasn’t necessary, making her way towards the building where the civilian offices were. She checks in, taking a seat in the hard plastic chair. Everything about the office was clinical, made for function, not comfort. Everything for the clones was made that way. Function over comfort. It made her sad. 

She takes a seat on the exam table when she’s called back, the clone medic going through the usual questions. How was she doing, was she fitting in well with her squad. All the boring questions. 

“You’re overdue for a physical exam.” The medic tells her. 

Midnight shrugs. “We don’t get a lot of chances to stop at bases.” It was technically true. She could have gotten them done on Kamino, but she wasn’t fond of the Kaminoans and their obvious disapproval of her presence when the squad stopped there. 

The medic conducts the physical exam, cataloging any injuries, testing her blood, making sure she’s healthy and hasn’t picked up any illnesses off any planets. 

The last thing he does is hand her a cup. “Pregnancy test.”

“Excuse me?” Midnight blanches. 

“It’s protocol.” The medic says. “All females employed by the GAR have to take one regularly.” 

“Right.” Midnight’s jaw clenches, but she takes the cup, getting up. She heads into the fresher, muttering to herself. “I bet they don’t make the Jedi do this.” 

It wasn’t like she didn’t understand. Being in close quarters with a bunch of men had to lead to things. They couldn’t expect a bunch of soldiers to run around a battle field and not want to fuck afterward. They had to let off steam somehow. She’d felt post-fight arousal a few times in her life. Hell, back when she was with the fighting ring she’d fucked her opponent after a fight a couple times. 

No, she understood well the need for the pregnancy test. She lived in very close quarters with five very attractive clones. Kriff if she hadn’t thought about it more than once. Just what kinds of things Tech’s skilled fingers could do to her body. If all of Wrecker had been enhanced. Even just those thick fingers were enough to make shivers run down her spine. 

But she would never put them in a position like that. If she really got desperate, she’d ask one of the “regs” when they got time off, or landed on Kamino. At the worst, she had her own fingers. But she had refrained even from that, the thought of Hunter overhearing her had her body warming, heat flushing straight through her from head to toe. 

Hunter was her weak spot. It was ridiculous, cliche even. Things had been a bit rocky in the beginning as she’d worked to find her place among the five men that made up Clone Force 99. She was an outsider, not just in the fact she was a civilian. They were clones, she was not. They had their enhancements, though she was skilled in certain areas, there was nothing enhanced about her. And...she was a woman. 

Hunter had been the first to be stiffly cordial towards her. She knew immediately he would be the one that was hardest for her to be around. Wrecker, the child in a giant’s body, had been the most welcoming. Tech had been distant, but given he spent most of his time hunched over some gadget or machine, spouting off facts and corrections of facts in conversations he wasn’t even a part of, that wasn’t surprising to her. Echo was...shy. Hunter had loosely explained his situation. She understood, and she didn’t press him any. Crosshair was...Crosshair. He took the biggest issue with her joining, and made sure to make it known he did not approve. He had toned down the snarky remarks a bit, but his disapproval was still felt every chance he got. 

But Hunter. Stupid, ruggedly handsome Hunter. She’d seen them without their armor, dressed in nothing but the black bodysuit the plastoid attached to. How well it fit all of them. But Hunter with his broad shoulders and thin waist, his strong thighs. She still remembers when he’d put his hand on the back of her head, forcing her down seconds before a blaster bolt hit the wall behind her. How his touch had lingered after she’d shot down the droid. How she had longed to trace his skull tattoo, tangle her fingers in those thick curls that fell so effortlessly around his bandanna. 

Kriffing Hunter. 

The results of the test come back negative, as expected. She had an implant anyway. All GAR soldiers had them, clones and civilians. The medic lets her go, telling her they’d upload her results to the system and her team’s medic could access them. Clone Force 99 didn’t have an official medic. Tech usually filled that role due to his extensive knowledge of, well, everything. The Batch didn’t really need a full time medic. Despite their dangerous mission, they never really got injured often. In fact, the last major injury they’d had was when Wrecker was caught too close to an explosion. 

She was usually the only one getting patched up after missions. Cuts, scrapes, bruises. Tech had explained it was because of her lack of plastoid armor. Her GAR issued civilian armor wasn’t meant for close combat like she was seeing. She needed something thicker, something that could take a few hits. Tech had already started making adjustments, fixing the weak spots, trying to make her something she could still move in but that would offer better protection. 

She couldn’t wear the clone armor. She had two immediate concerns when it came to the fit. Plus, it was kriffing heavy. She’d held Hunter’s helmet once and she had no clue how they even moved in it at all, much less so effortlessly. 

She shakes the impure thoughts from her head as she makes her way back to the Marauder. They’re already waiting for her, gathered around a speeder. 

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks as she finally joins them. 

“Yeah, had to do a physical.” She explains. 

“I saw your results.” Tech says, fiddling with something on his vambrace. 

“‘Course you did.” She says. “So, where to next?” 

“We’re going down a few levels to pick up some intel for our next mission.” Hunter says. 

“How many levels?” She asks hesitantly, already wondering if she can ask to stay on the Marauder, or even back in the offices. 

“Back to your old stomping grounds.” Crosshair says as he climbs into the speeder. 

Midnight swallows thickly, fighting back the array of emotions running through her. “We need to make a stop first.” 

Hunter looks at her incredulously. 

“Please?” She adds, not wanting to have to explain it all in that moment. 

Hunter relents, stopping at a store for her. She climbs back into the speeder carrying three bags of candy. 

“What is that for?” Tech asks curiously. 

“You’ll see.” She says, shoving two of the bags into her pack, slipping the third into a side pocket as they take off again, dropping down lower and lower into the city. 

She had hoped Crosshair had been joking when he’d said they were going back to where she grew up. Of course he had been serious. She hadn’t been this deep in the Coruscant underworld since the night she met Cody. She had forgotten just how dark it was, how bad it smelled. She felt for Hunter. She really did. She hadn’t missed the sticky streets, the seedy businesses, the cautious eyes watching them. 

“This is where you grew up?” Echo asks as they make their way through the street. 

She nods. “Well, not this area, but these levels.” 

“No wonder you’re so tough.” Wrecker says. 

Midnight shrugs. “When it’s all you know.” 

They make it further than she thought without incident, most of the characters wanting to avoid a group of men in armor. She’s surprised none of them were stupid enough to try and rob them, but naturally walking around armed was a good deterrent. 

She’d been distracted in her own thoughts when they suddenly found themselves blocked off. 

“Beat it, kids.” She hears Hunter growl and she immediately jumps into action. 

She moves past Hunter, putting a hand on his arm. “I’ve got this.” She steps forward to the line of kids, reaching back to pull the bag of candy from her pack. She holds it up, raising her eyebrows. 

The kid who was obviously the leader stares at the candy longingly before nodding, holding his hands out. She drops the bag into his waiting hands, the kids parting for them to pass. She looks back at the Batch, nodding for them to continue. 

“So that’s what the candy was for.” Tech says. 

She shrugs. “They’ll usually take anything, but candy’s the most successful bargaining chip.” 

“You know a lot about life down here.” Tech presses, his curious tone taking over his voice. 

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Not too long ago that was me. Some days what you can bully off of strangers is the only thing you get to eat.” 

“That’s horrible.” Echo says. 

“That’s reality. Senators sit up there making decisions about a war a galaxy away and ignore the trillions of people under them who can’t even afford to eat everyday.” She swallows the emotions down. “I got lucky, getting out.” 

None of them say anything, something she’s glad for. She had told them a bit of her past, of her life down here. But there was a lot they didn’t know. A lot they couldn’t understand. She’s not sure she could ever tell them everything, that she would ever want to. 

They make it to their destination quickly, Midnight reading the name of the bar. It looked like most underworld bars, bright letters almost blinding in the dim light outside. 

“We’ll do this fast.” Hunter says. “Go in, get the info, then we’ll leave.” 

“Echo and I will stay out here.” Midnight says, turning to face the leader. He gives her a look, but she speaks before he can argue. “You want this to go fast? Echo and I stay.” 

Hunter’s jaw clenches but he relents, nodding once. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

Midnight moves away from the door, taking a seat on the bench out front. Echo remains standing, eyes scanning the street. 

“Why are we out here?” Echo asks her. 

“Just on the off chance they’d try to bargain for the information.” She digs out a couple pieces of candy from her pack. “They’d try to exchange us for the info.” She offers him a piece. 

He takes it, unwrapping it. “They’d really do that?” 

“A woman and a cyborg are worth a lot down here.” 

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous for us to be out here alone, then?” He says, sweeping the street again. 

“No.” She shrugs. “They know they can’t get to us without a fight. And a firefight will attract other gangs. It’s a domino effect until there’s a full on gang war in the streets. They don’t want that, so they’ll leave us alone.” 

“You really do know a lot about what goes on down here.” He says, moving slightly closer to her. 

She shrugs again. “I’m observant. It’s how I survived. How I met Cody.” 

They lapse into silence, waiting for the rest of the team to appear. They watch the passersby, none of them giving the two a passing glance. Midnight watches as a couple kids creep out of an alley, a girl and two boys. They’re heckling her, the girl getting loud as she tries to fight back. Midnight swallows the lump in her throat as the girl kicks one of the boys, distracting them long enough for her to run. The boys quickly follow, chasing her down another alley. 

Thankfully the others leave the bar before she can think too much, talk herself into following. She was a soldier now. She had bigger things to focus on than what went on in the Coruscant underworld. 

“Let’s get out of here.” Hunter says, motioning for them to follow. 

She’s glad to leave, their exit quick and without any incident. 

She’s quiet as they head back towards the GAR and the Marauder. It had been harder than she’d thought to be back. To be constantly reminded of the life she left behind. The life she’d been saved from. Sure, her life was hard now, but at least she knew she was safe. Even when she was fighting on the front lines, being shot at by droids that knew nothing but that she was a target to be eliminated, she was safe. 

“You okay?” Hunter asks as she climbs out of the speeder when it stops next to the Marauder. 

There’s so much sincerity in his gaze she’s almost tempted to answer honestly. “Yeah.” She says. “It’s just hard being back.” 

He nods slowly. “We’ve got some time to kill, so we were gonna go grab a drink.” 

“You’re going to a bar?” She asks in disbelief. She knew about the clone bar, Cody had mentioned it when they met. But she didn’t expect them to be interested in going there. It had to be full of “regs” on leave. 

He shrugs. “Yeah. Figured we’d destress a little. We don’t get the chance often.” 

She nods. “Right.” She glances down at her suit. “Can I change?” 

He nods. “Sure. We’ll be waiting.” 

She climbs up the ramp to the Marauder, heading into her bunk. She digs her only dress out of her makeshift dresser. She hadn’t worn it since the last time she was on Coruscant. She’d brought it for occasions like this, when they got rare time off. It was short, revealing a decent amount of cleavage and a lot of leg. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to get laid. But if someone offered, she’s not sure she’ll be able to say no. 

Their jaws drop when she slowly descends the ramp. She had been nervous, anxious about how they’d react. They’re all staring at her, watching her as she approaches them. They all look flustered, Wrecker’s mouth open, Tech’s mouth opening and closing, for the first time totally speechless. Echo is wide eyed, even Crosshair is clenching his teeth around his toothpick harder than usual. Hunter is...hard to read. His eyes are dark, a serious look on his face as his eyes roam her form. Her suit was tight fitting, hiding little of her form to them, but she had never shown so much skin in front of them.

“You look...good.” Hunter finally says, the other four nodding in agreement. “Really good.” 

Her face warms at his words. “Thanks.” 

They’re all still in their armor, sans weapons and gear and helmets. She kind of wishes she’d get a chance to see them in something else, but maybe she’d get a chance yet. 

They surround her as they make their way to 79s. It was a habit for them more than anything. Hunter in the lead, Crosshair and Tech beside her, Echo and Wrecker at the back. Thankfully it’s still early enough there’s not many in the bar yet, giving them a chance to pick a good seat. Somewhere they’d draw little attention. 

They wind up in a booth in the back, in a secluded corner. They all get beer, the cheap free beer the bar gave out to clones. Clones didn’t get paid. It was something she was quick to realize. They weren’t so much soldiers as unwilling volunteers created for nothing more than fighting in a war. It made her heart hurt a bit, thinking their only purpose was to be expendable. 

She at least got paid. It wasn’t anything to brag about, but she’d earned more in six months than she’d ever seen before. She hadn’t spent a lot of it. She didn’t have time or need to. She had no travel expenses, she was provided meals, clothing, anything she needed, really. Even Cody had told her to ask him if she needed anything specific. He could see about pulling strings for her. 

In the short time she’d been employed by the GAR, she’d amassed what was, to her, a small fortune. All while the clones in the booth with her lived with the bare minimum, putting their lives on the line for what? A pat on the back? Getting to live to see the next day? 

“Don’t look so miserable.” Crosshair snaps from across the table. 

She looks up, finding the whole squad looking at her. “I’m not miserable.” She quickly chugs the rest of her beer. “Just lost in thought.” 

“Must be heavy thoughts.” Tech says. 

“Yeah. That means I’m not drunk enough yet.” She pushes Tech, wanting to get up. “I’m gonna get us something stronger.” 

She makes her way down to the bar, the club starting to pick up a bit. She leans against the bar, pressing her chest out a bit as she asks for a bottle of the strongest stuff she dare drink. A presence appears at her side, making her turn her head. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” 

She turns to fully face the clone, looking him over. He’s handsome. Then again, they all were. Maker bless Jango Fett for being hot, she thinks. “Is that your go to line?” She asks, giving him a small smirk. 

“Only for the ones I like. Can I buy you a drink?” 

The bartender sets her bottle and the shot glasses on the bar in front of her. She grabs them, turning back to the clone. “I’ve got plenty, thanks. But I’ll keep that offer in mind if I get lonely.” 

She turns, heading back towards the booth where her squad sat, making sure to sway her hips just a bit more than usual. Oh yeah. She wanted to get laid tonight. She sets the bottle and the glasses on the table, earning the attention of her squad again. She slides into the booth when Tech moves, pouring them all a shot. 

Echo sniffs it cautiously. “This is strong stuff.” 

“Yup.” She says, throwing the shot back. “That’s the point.” She pours another, drinking that one immediately as well. 

“You’re in a mood.” Crosshair says, taking his shot. 

She shrugs. “It’s this place. Coruscant.” She pours another shot. “I got lucky, getting out. But how many others don’t have that chance?” 

“Well, considering there’s estimated to be close to 3 trillion people on Coruscant, most of which live in the underworld in poor conditions, the likelihood is very small. Even with the war, the chances of them getting the opportunity you had is next to none. It’s more likely some of them join crime syndicates or become pirates in order to get off the planet. But even then it’s very unlikely they leave for long.” Tech rattles off, despite the daggers being glared into him from across the table. The chances of him getting punched in the next few seconds were high, Hunter knows. But it’s impossible to tell what Midnight was going to do. 

She grabs the bottle, pouring him another shot. “Here, Tech.” She slides the glass closer to him. “You also need to be more drunk.” 

“Let’s toast.” Hunter says as Midnight refills their glasses. “To luck.” 

“To luck!” They all cheer before downing another shot. 

Midnight easily drinks half the bottle herself. She was starting to feel it, the warmth blooming under her skin. She laughed at everything they said, every excited outburst from Wrecker was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Even Crosshair couldn’t get under her skin anymore. Tech was second drunkest, as every time he prattled off some fact or statistic, Midnight poured him a shot. 

She wasn’t drunk enough to miss the glances Hunter passed her way. Every time she laughed, or reached for the bottle, or said something, his eyes would glance over her. He was hard to read in the low light, his brows always furrowed in concentration. Always watching, always analyzing. 

She wonders if alcohol affects him more because of his heightened senses. She wonders if it makes them worse, or dulls them. She wonders what the bar is like for him. The sights, the sounds, the smells. Cheap beer, body odor, arousal. Does food taste stronger to him? What would she taste like to him? 

Kriff, she was starting to get horny. 

Maybe she should find that trooper from earlier, get him to take her home. Get some relief for the night. She’d have to face the walk of shame tomorrow, deal with the looks from her squad. It was an unspoken rule though, right? You didn’t fuck your squad mates. 

Even though she wanted to. 

She’d take any of them. Even Crosshair. Hell, she’d take all of them. 

“You alright, mesh’la?” Hunter’s voice pulls her from her daydreams. 

She loved it when he spoke Mando’a to her. She loved it when they all did it. Tech had given her a long talk about Mandalorian culture, their ties to it, even teaching her a few common words. Mesh’la was not one she knew, though. There were a couple they used that she didn’t know. She blinks at him, realizing she’d been leaning against the table staring. “Yeah.” She drags the word out, giving him a dopey smile. “Just admiring the view.” 

Oh yeah. She’s drunk. She’s getting into dangerous territory, but the alcohol was raging inside her now. Maybe she should have taken it slow. She should get up, dismiss herself from the booth now, find a trooper and leave. Let the alcohol ride itself out with a stranger she’d likely never see again. 

Not a squad of clones she had to face everyday for the foreseeable future. 

“The view?” Hunter asks, raising his brows as he stares at her. 

“Yeah.” She lets her eyes scan all of them. “Kriff, you’re all so pretty. Why are you all so pretty?” 

Tech shrugs. “We’re clones, cyar’ika. We all look the same.” 

“But you don’t!” She exclaims, tucking her legs under her so she’s kneeling on the seat. She leans on the table, giving the three clones in front of her quite a view. “I mean, you do, but you’re all so different. So unique. I just really wanna fuck you all.” 

She’s not drunk enough to forget what she just said. It hadn’t been what she wanted to say. She was going to say she loved them all, let them figure out what she meant as she excused herself to go find a “reg” to fuck for the night. But her tipsy brain had meshed her thoughts together, confessing something she swore she’d never say. It wasn’t even a slip of her drunken togue. It was a pure confession. 

They’re all gawking at her. All five of them. Maker, she wishes they’d say something. Get mad at her, yell at her, tell her they were going to have her reassigned tomorrow, to pack her things and leave because it was over for her. Crawl back to the underworld cause she had kriffed everything up. But they all seem to be as shocked as she is. 

She opens and closes her mouth a couple times, barely managing to squeak out a “fresher” before she’s crawling over Tech and all but running to the refreshers. 

She could cry. She could puke. She should just hide in the refresher until morning, until the staff kicked her out. Then maybe she could avoid them. She could slip out the back, head back to the ship and pack her stuff. Would she get in trouble for running away from the army? She did sign a contract. She could wait until morning when the offices open, go in and ask for reassignment. Somewhere she’d never have to see the Batch again. 

How was she going to face them after this? Maybe they were drunk enough they’d forget by morning. Maybe they’d write it off as her being drunk. Just the drunken ramblings of a nat-born. 

She’s screwed. Absolutely screwed. 

She washes her hands in the sink of the fresher, taking a deep breath. She could go to the bar, get something strong, find a trooper and slip out without them noticing. She’d face them tomorrow, play it off like she didn’t remember. If she were lucky, she’d get something strong enough she would forget this whole trip. 

She slips back towards the bar. The club is busy now, filled with clones on leave. She slips into an empty space at the bar, trying to blend in. 

“Get me the strongest thing you have.” She tells the bartender. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, giving her an incredulous look. 

“Make it a double.” She says, tossing extra credits on the bar. 

He shrugs, taking the credits before grabbing a bottle, pouring her a shot of glowing green liquid. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You here alone?” 

She turns to face the trooper, looking up at the smirking face. It wasn’t the trooper from before. Or, it could be, but she was beyond telling them apart right now. She grabs her drink, downing it in a smooth motion. It burns, almost like acid going down, but she welcomes it. Anything to distract her from the mortification still burning through her. This trooper is cocky. Full of himself. Not usually her type, but she was desperate. 

“She’s taken.” 

The voice comes from behind her before she can answer. She feels the warm body press up against her back, a familiar smell washing over her, over the many smells in the bar. A hand falls to her waist, holding her hip possessively. The clone straightens up, looking at the figure behind her. 

“Man, she looked desperate, but didn’t think she’d go for someone like you.” It’s meant as an insult towards both of them. 

“Hey, you watch your fucking mouth.” She hisses before Hunter can respond. “He’s twice the soldier you’ll ever be, sleemo. You only pick up desperate girls cause that’s all that’ll go for you.” 

She really was starting to get drunk now. She was getting angry. She was ready to fight. 

“Trust me, vod.” Hunter says. “She’s far from desperate.” 

“I’m not your vod.” The clone spits out, but decides they must not be worth it as he walks away. 

Midnight goes to turn, but Hunter’s hand on her hip urges her forward. “Come on. We’re going back to the ship.” He says. 

Kriff. This was it. She was going to get kicked out of the squad, told to pack her stuff and get out. Her future with the Batch was done. It was all over. 

“Hunter.” She whines, the cool night air washing over her, making her shiver. 

Hunter’s hand on her waist tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. His pace is quick, urgent as he leads her off towards the GAR, towards the Marauder. 

“Hunter, I’m sorry.” Maybe she could plead for forgiveness. Maybe they could put this all behind them, laugh it off as a joke. 

He shuts the ramp behind them once they’re inside. Her back meets the cool metal wall of the ship, Hunter’s body pressing hard into her. He’s...kissing her. His plush lips taste like alcohol, his tongue slipping into her mouth as she gasps in surprise. This...hadn’t been what she expected. 

“Hunter.” She murmurs against his lips, but she doesn’t stop kissing him. 

“Do you know...how hard it’s been.” He growls between kisses. “I’ve been smelling you for the last hour.” His hand slides down her waist, gripping a bare thigh. “How turned on you are.” 

She whines against his lips. Of course he could smell that. How he had smelled that in a bar full of horny people and alcohol was beyond her. Unless he had been paying attention to her. Close attention. 

His hand slides up her thigh, dipping under her dress. His fingers hit the curve of her ass, sliding up until he’s cupping it. He groans, burying his face in her neck. “Are you not wearing underwear?” 

“No.” She breathes, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. “Can see the lines in this dress.” 

He groans, his lips brushing her skin. “Tell me. Tell me what you said was true.” He squeezes her ass. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.” 

She moans when his teeth sink into her skin, bruising her neck. She was far too drunk to think of the consequences, what effect this could have on them, on the squad. “Yes.” She confesses. “Hunter, please fuck me.” 

He growls against her throat, his other hand wrapping around her thigh before he lifts her. She hangs on as he carries her to her makeshift room, dropping her on her cot. He begins the process of removing his armor, letting the pieces drop to the floor. She sits up, working on the bottom half as he strips himself from the top half. She saves the codpiece for last, slipping her fingers around the edges as she stares up into his dark eyes. He’s breathing heavy, thick chest rising and falling as he watches her. She bites her lip, peeling it away from his blacks before letting it fall to the floor. 

He’s hard. The bulge in his blacks is big, straining against the fabric. She licks her lips, eyelevel with it at this angle. She reaches for it, but he grabs her hand, pushing her back onto the cot. She stares up at him as he kneels over her, his gloves hitting the floor next. His gaze is dark as he looks down at her, his hand running along her body, starting at her chest. 

“You look so kriffing hot in that dress.” He says, his gaze hungry. “I’ve been hard since you walked down the ramp earlier.” His hands slip under her dress, teasing their way up her thighs. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for weeks.” He confesses. “Since our first mission. How hot you looked, taking out droid after droid. Kriff I had to jerk off in my bunk, I was so worked up.” 

He pulls her dress over her head, leaving her bare before him. He pauses, taking her in, letting his eyes and his fingers trail over her. Her own hands lift to his chest, hands closing around his blacks, tugging. 

“Take them off.” She says, tugging the top free from the bottoms. 

He does as she says, stripping off his blacks. He’s beautiful, sculpted like a piece of art. She lets her hands trail over him, feeling every ridge and muscle. He’s built like a god, like some sort of idol. She wants to get on her knees and worship him. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss her again. “I know the others want to. I can smell it, when they look at you. I can hear them in their bunks. In the fresher. Moaning your name when they think no one will hear.” 

She whimpers at the thought that maybe her drunken confession wasn’t going to be taken as hard as she thought. Maybe they had their own confessions to make. 

She pulls him down against her, reveling in the feeling of his body against hers for a moment before she flips them, the cot creaking as he hits it. She sits up over him, running her hands down his chest. He’s all muscle, strong and thick with it. She scoots down his thighs, revealing the thick member pressed against his stomach. 

Kriffing bless Jango Fett for his genes. 

She licks her lips, wrapping a hand around him. He’s hot and heavy, thick enough she can get her fingers around him, but still enough to fill her palm. She bends down, licking a stripe up his length. His tip is salty with precum, and she licks a bead from his head, looking him in the eyes. A string of curses leaves his lips, eyes almost black as they watch her. 

She slowly works her mouth around him, taking him as deep as she can. She’s already so wet she’s almost dripping, her thighs slick. She keeps her gaze locked on his as she works him, her hand closing around the bit she can’t reach. He’s moaning, the sound like music to her ears. 

His hand tangles in her hair, pulling her off him before he cums, his hands sliding her closer. He kisses her, his hand slipping between her thighs. He groans when his fingers slip through her wetness, her own groan matching as he brushes her clit. 

“Hunter! Need you to fuck me.” She whimpers against his lips, grinding her pussy against his hand. 

“Be my guest.” He says, letting her sit up. 

She grips his length, pumping him a couple times before lining him up. She sinks down onto him, moaning at the stretch. She breathes deeply, pausing for a moment to adjust. It was better than she had imagined. Even if this was only a one time thing, nothing would ever compare to this. 

Except, maybe the other four. Kriff, if Hunter was this well endowed, Wrecker must be huge. She flutters a bit around him, lowering her hands to his stomach to brace herself as she moves. She knows she won’t hold this position long. She’ll get tired before they’re done. 

She starts to move, bouncing on top of him. She takes his hands, moving them to her breasts. “Fuck, Hunter!” She moans, head falling back as the sound of their hips meeting fills the small space. 

He curses, groaning as he squeezes her breasts. “Fucking hell, cyare. So tight, so kriffing warm. So fucking beautiful.” 

She bites her lip at his words, leaning forward a bit so her clit brushes against his pelvis as she grinds against him. “You’re fucking beautiful, Hunter.” She moans. “Fuck, we should have done this sooner.” She moans as he braces his feet against her cot, thrusting up into her. 

Her fingers dig into his pecs, hanging on for dear life as he takes over, fucking up into her. His hands dig into her hips, likely to leave bruises but she doesn’t care. She wants to remember this moment, wants to carry the reminder for as long as she can. 

A pass of his fingers on her clit pushes her over the edge, her entire body going taught like a wire. He watches her, wanting to commit this moment to memory as she comes undone over him, lost entirely in pleasure. He’s far from done with her, but this moment was the one he wanted to remember when they woke up tomorrow morning. 

******

Her head hurts. It’s throbbing painfully. She lifts a hand, rubbing her forehead with her palm. She’s sweaty and hot, uncomfortably so. Was Tech messing with the filtering system again? She lets her head fall back to her pillow, a very obvious smack sounding as she does. 

Reality slams into her like an angry rancor. She was on the Marauder. She was positive of that. She recognized the little cubbyhole that served as her room. There’s a pile of armor on the floor. Black and red, it’s one of the Batch’s. 

Kriff, she’d fucked one of her squadmates. 

She looks around, looking for any sign of who it is. She knows it’s not Tech. The coloring was wrong. Likely not Wrecker either, it was too small. Her eyes land on the red bandanna on her nightstand, a pit forming in her stomach. She closes her eyes, willing it all to be a dream. Willing it all to be some sort of alcohol infused hallucination. That she was still drunk and not laying naked in bed on her squad leader. 

But the warm body under hers doesn't disappear. 

“Hunter?” She asks quietly, voice hoarse with dehydration. 

He grunts, the sound vibrating through her ear. His hand is splayed on her hip, the other tossed up around his head. 

“We fucked, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah.” He breathes. “We fucked a lot.” 

She lets out a shaky breath, not ready to look him in the eye yet. She thinks back, trying to piece together everything that had happened the day before. 

“Do the others...” 

“Yeah. They came back before we were done.” 

She curses, rubbing her face again. She couldn’t even face him, how was she going to face the others? This was it. Her life was over. He was going to force her off the ship, send her back to the office to be reassigned or fired from the GAR. She’d have to descend back into the darkness of the underworld. Her luck had run out. 

“Hey.” Hunter says softly, his fingers gently tracing her spine. His touch is soft, comforting. It almost makes her sick. Or maybe that was the hangover. “Why are you scared?” 

“I don’t know, maybe cause I fucked my squad leader?” 

“I was a willing participant in this as well, in case you forgot.” He wraps his arms around her, holding her still. “I meant what I said. I’ve wanted you for a while now. But I knew my vod also wanted you, and I didn’t want to act on my feelings and cause problems between us.” 

She tilts her head to look up at him, only able to see his chin from her angle. “Good job.” 

He hums, tracing her arm. “I think we need to have a talk.” 

She nods. “Yeah. I think so too.” 

“All of us.” 

She swallows the lump in her throat. “Yeah. All of us.” She turns, finally looking at him. She brushes a curl off his forehead, fingers tracing the half skull tattoo. “I meant what I said too. I was going to tell you that I loved you all, but I guess my drunk brain wanted to jumpstart things.” She tangles her hand in his hair, letting it sit there. “I don’t regret it.” 

“I don’t either.” He says, wrapping his arms around her. “But if this is going to cause issues within the squad-”  

“I know.” She whispers, leaning down to kiss him. “I’m just glad it happened once.” 

*****

It takes them a while to get up. Thankfully they have time today. She knows both of them are trying to figure out how to face the rest of their squad. They had broken basically all the unspoken rules yesterday. Not only that, but she had confessed her attraction to all of them, and then proceeded to fuck Hunter. To be fair, she would have fucked any of them, but Hunter had just been the one that was there. 

Midnight opts for her loungewear, knowing they won’t be leaving the ship for a while. Hunter dresses in his blacks, leaving the rest of his armor on the floor. Once they’re dressed they know they can’t delay any longer, Midnight forcing herself to be brave. She wasn’t getting kicked off the squad. Not directly because of her actions. Though, if the others were upset enough, she may have to consider leaving as the best option. 

They find them in the hull, seated at the table. They’re sitting around with cups of caff, the silence heavy in the air. None of them are looking at each other either, all focused on their cups, or in Tech’s case, the gadget he was working on. 

“We need to have a discussion.” Hunter says, shifting himself into leader mode. 

The squad reacts to the shift, all looking up at him, and subsequently Midnight. She takes a seat at the table, the spot next to Crosshair. At least his cruel remarks would be welcome. She felt she did deserve them right now. Hunter takes the open seat at the head of the table, the silence between them still thick in the air. 

“We need to discuss last night.” He finally says, looking at the other four clones. “And what happened.” 

“Midnight making a drunken fool of herself.” Crosshair says. 

“I was drunk, but I meant what I said.” She snaps back, turning her gaze to the other four clones. “I didn’t want to cause any problems within the squad, make anyone uncomfortable. But it is the truth. I think I could have said it a little better. Maybe not jumped to something so...explicit. I just...wanted to tell you all how much I’d fallen in love with you. All of you. I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, but between the pregnancy test and then being back on Coruscant, seeing everything I got to leave behind because of you...I thought I could drink to forget, but it just made me too honest.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments, none of the clones looking at her anymore. 

“Wait, pregnancy test?” Wrecker asks. 

“It’s standard procedure during all physical exams for female GAR employees.” Tech explains. “For reasons like this.” 

Midnight bites her lip, the meaning behind his words not going unnoticed. “I didn’t ever plan on this happening. I never planned on acting on my feelings. I was planning on going home with a ‘reg’ last night. Someone I wouldn’t have to see again.” Her confession has them all shifting in their seats. “Let everything out that way so something like this wouldn’t happen. I never wanted to come between any of you.” 

“I made a dumb decision last night too.” Hunter says, drawing the attention to him. “I took advantage of a situation without taking into consideration anyone else’s feelings. We should have had this discussion first before any of us made any decisions about feelings or acting on them. It’s not fair to any of us, what I did.” 

It’s quiet for too long, even Tech having abandoned his gadget. Tears brim in Midnight’s eyes. She hated that this was her fault. She had been so desperate to forget, so desperate to drown her feelings she lost control, embarrassed herself, and caused a rift between a very close group of clones. She knew how the “regs” viewed them, she’d witnessed it firsthand last night. They were all they had. And here she was, tearing them apart. 

“Where do we go from here?” Echo asks quietly. 

“I’ll leave.” Midnight says. “Go pack up right now and go to the office and ask for a transfer. You’ll never have to see me again.” 

“No!” Wrecker bellows, making them all jump at the sudden noise. “I don’t want you to leave.” He pouts. “I love you too, Night.” 

She gives him a sad smile. “Thanks, Wreck. But I can’t cause any problems in this squad. You rely on each other too much for me to come in and cause rifts like this. I’m the problem. It’s only fair if I remove myself from the equation.” 

“But some equations have multiple variables.” Tech speaks up. “Such as in this case. If we only solve for your variable, the equation won’t work. We have to solve for all variables. Hunter and Wrecker have already voiced their stances. Hunter acted on his repressed feelings for you, but you failed to take into consideration that the rest of us would also share in such a desire.” 

Midnight blinks at Tech. He was right. She had been so focused on thinking the others were jealous because she picked Hunter so easily. Hunter had told her last night he overheard them, noticed how they watched her too. If she could love all five of them, why couldn’t all five of them love her too? 

“We had our conversation last night.” Tech says, adjusting his goggles. “After you and Hunter made your exit. We discussed where we should go from here. At least two of us expressed our interest in following Hunter’s executive decision.” 

Midnight leans her head on her hand, looking at Tech. “You and Wrecker?” 

Tech shrugs, cheeks flushing a little. “I think you’re an...attractive female specimen. I wouldn’t mind conducting some research into female human anatomy with you.” Tech adjusts his goggles again, still looking a bit flustered. 

“Are you...flirting with me?” She asks, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. 

“I think he is.” Hunter says, smiling at his vod. “In his own way.” 

“Don’t expect me to agree to anything.” Crosshair says, sliding his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. 

“Wouldn’t expect you to, Cross.” Midnight says, staring hard at the sniper. She would never admit she was a hair disappointed in his avid opposition to this possible arrangement. 

“I’m not...sure if I can.” Echo says, the last to voice his opinion. 

“That’s okay.” Midnight gives him a small smile. “There’s plenty of ways to go about relationships. I don’t want to make you feel pressured to do more than you’re comfortable with.” She looks over the five clones at the table. “I don’t want anyone to feel pressured into this. I’d rather things happen...organically. I also would have preferred this conversation happening before Hunter and I...slept together. But things happened that we can’t go back on. I’d rather we all take our time, let things progress naturally and not be alcohol induced.” She chews on her lip for a moment, still tender from Hunter last night. “So, we’re really gonna do this?” 

“Hell yes!” Wrecker yells, cheering in victory. 

“Yeah.” Tech says once Wrecker has stopped yelling. 

“You already know my answer.” Hunter says. 

“The option’s there if you decide you want to try.” She says, trying not to single out either Echo or Crosshair. “I’m perfectly happy staying friends. Or...acquaintances.” She does look at Crosshair this time. 

Hunter chuckles. “He’ll come around, cyar’ika.” 

Crosshair glares at Hunter, gripping his toothpick so hard between his teeth, Midnight is scared he might snap it in half. 

“So.” Midnight tries to cut the tension. “Wanna go get breakfast?” 

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Chapter 15)

Pairing: Soft Dark Alpha Lee Bodecker x Omega Female Reader

Summary: After moving to Knockemstiff, Ohio with your troubled parents, you find solace in the local Seven-Eleven. There, you bump into the Alpha sheriff, Lee Bodecker.

And then you keep bumping into him. There's just something about that chubby Alpha that keeps drawing you in. Now there's something going on with the new preacher of the church that you attend. Everything's a mess.

But you’re an unbonded Omega. Life can turn to shit anyway.

Chapter Warnings: ABO dynamics, as usual. This chapter is the Heat/Rut chapter, so shameless smut for the most part. Heavy mentions of a breeding kink. Slight mentions of a lactation kink. Daddy kink is alive and thriving, as usual. The Reader experiences a nightmare in this chapter, so warnings for that, if that's triggering. A major character's death also occurs in the dream too. Possessive!Lee peeks out. Discussions of children and past mentions of serial killers are also discussed at the end with Arvin and Sandy.

Additional Notes: I apologize for any emotional damage I cause with this chapter. Please send all therapy bills my way.

Other than that, I'm back! I'm so sorry for neglecting this story for so long. I have the rest of this fic planned out and 70% prewritten, although the last chapter I have decided to completely rewrite from scratch because it just wasn't vibing with me. So the last chapter may take a little time. I'm also debating if I should change the chapter count back to 18? Who knows at this point with me. So if the chapter count changes, that's why. Much thanks to @buckysswinter for giving me the feedback for this chapter! I'll pay for all your therapy bills, I promise.

Also yeah, we're back to 18 chapters. I won't be indecisive with the chapter count anymore, I promise.

Word Count: 3466

The very next morning…

You woke up alone in the nest.

The sunlight that was pouring into the room, due to the blinds being open was the only way you could figure out it was the next morning.

Or was it?

That was a thought. As you managed to swing your legs over, so you could be sitting on the edge of the bed, you noticed just how warm you were.

Too warm.

You felt like you had been in a sauna for far too long. Or like you had been like a loaf of bread that had just been taken out of a hot oven. Slowly and carefully, you padded your way out of the room and down the hallway.

When your feet smacked against the wooden floors of the house, it was there, you realized.

You were naked.

Like— fully naked.

Such thoughts made you begin to think.

Had Lee not dressed you after your little tryst in the woods? Had he undressed you while you had been sleeping?

You fucking hoped not.

While you were making your way down the hall and into the living room, Lee had capped the food he had allowed to cool in the Tupperware. He opened the fridge door and put the Tupperware of food inside, before shutting the door closed with a soft thunk.

His nostrils flared up as he smelled you.

Your scent had sunk in all over the house. Every surface, every crevice. Your heat smelled so good, that Lee was pretty certain that he had soaked through his boxer briefs, and he was one-hundred percent sure that he was as hard as a rock.

Even now, as he heard you padding your way towards the kitchen, he smelled you.

Oh, you smelled wonderful. He felt like he was smelling a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies that had just come out of the oven.

You heard Lee rumble as you finally had gotten into the kitchen.

His back was facing you, but you noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything but his boxer briefs. You could see the sweat rolling down in beads down his back. Such a sight made your pussy throb. A low growl left your Mate as he smelled your evident arousal lingering in the air.

Your Omega, oh your Omega couldn’t be as excited and gleeful as she was now. She was happily bouncing in her cage, watching in delight as her Alpha turned around.

Lee’s Rut hadn’t settled in all the way yet. So he wasn’t as hormone-crazed as you. Feeling like you needed to crawl up the walls, having those Heat cramps, and the urge to be pinned down and fucked until you had nothing left to give.

But the thing he could feel was that he was hungry.

Just like you.

Your stomach grumbled.

Watching as Lee scooped some food onto a plate, he put a spoon and fork on your plate as he slid your plate over to you.

Eagerly, you dug in. You hadn’t realized how hungry you had been the entire day until you had taken your first bite of food.

Once you finished your plate, you quietly spoke.

“How long was I asleep?”

“You didn’t eat dinner last night,” Lee answered you. “You fell asleep when I brought you back into the cruiser, and when I brought you home, I told San and your ma that you had gone into Heat. Sandy and your ma are stayin’ at a neighbor’s house.”

“And Ari?”

At the mention of the precious Doberman, Lee allowed himself to smirk a little.

“Lee, I ain’t allowing our son to hear those sounds of debauchery.” At the sight of your scowl, Lee’s smirk became bigger. You resisted the urge to throw the spoon that you were using at his face.

Your Alpha was such a little shit.

“Lee, as much as I love ya— I will throw my spoon in your face if you’re going to tell me that our son is still in this damn house.”

“Don’t worry Mega, Ari’s not here. Sandy took him to the neighbor’s house.”

A sigh of relief came from you in response.

However, upon seeing that your Alpha was still smirking, you actually threw your spoon in his direction. Quickly dodging the incoming spoon, your spoon clattered to the floor as your scowl became more pronounced.

“Dick,” came your mutter.

You knew you shouldn’t have done that.

Oh, you were in such deep shit now.

It had happened after you had finished eating.

You had found yourself back into the master bedroom, naked underneath the covers, all the while you were sweating profusely, slick oozing out of you. Your thighs felt so slippery and smooth, almost as if you were a dolphin.

You felt really, really, really smooth.

But, you were really, really, really horny.

Slick oozed out of you as if you were dripping with sweat, and it trickled down your legs. Your headache was becoming such a hindrance.

And to top it all off, you were horny.

Sometimes, you hated being an Omega.

Turning your body to the side, you realized that Lee was still asleep.

You had lost track of time again.

Not knowing quite what time it was, you flopped back onto your back, looking up at the ceiling. Even as your Heat burned through you and your thighs shook and trembled.

Shutting your eyes tight, you found yourself falling asleep.

Your eyes slowly opened.

This bed felt familiar.

It was much softer than Lee’s mattress, at least. The comforter and the blankets felt familiar too. Lifting up the blankets to your nose, you smelled a familiar scent. One that reminded you of lavender and a smell that you could pinpoint was your old Doberman.

You sat up immediately.

Familiar soft yellow walls filled your vision as your palms shook.

Your room.

Your old room.

Your old room in Michigan. You even heard the birds chirp in the tree that had been close to your old bedroom.

How the hell had you ended up here?

Slowly and carefully, you maneuvered your way out of bed, swinging your legs over to the side. Heaving yourself off of the bed, you walked to the door, grabbing the knob to turn it. The knob twisted and turned as you slowly pulled it open.

Opening the door, you were puzzled as you were suddenly looking outside, instead of the familiar small hallway. There had always been a small hallway where your room was. You could have sworn you should have heard at least one of your parents in the kitchen.

But no.

Instead, you were looking at a landscape that looked like the woods.

In a familiar neck of the woods.

You knew these woods.

The leaves crunched under your feet as you continued to walk through the forest, still completely and utterly confused. You still heard the birds chirping, and suddenly, there was a loud noise.

As if someone had fired a shotgun.

… That shotgun sounded familiar…

Your feet carried you through the forest as you broke out into a run, getting deeper and deeper into the woods.

Eventually, when you stopped, you froze in your tracks.

“Lee? Lee, what the hell are you doin’?!”

You probably looked and sounded hysterical.

Deep down though, you had a sinking feeling that who you were looking at— even though he had Lee’s chubby figure, chubby cheeks, and full head of dark hair— that this wasn’t your Daddy.

You heard a bird fly away.

… had he shot because he heard a damn bird?

… just how deranged was he right now?

You really didn’t want to know.

You could feel your heart clenching as you looked at him.

This Lee looked so much like your Lee.

But you knew he wasn’t yours. When you heard him yell again, you jumped. Actually jumped in fright.

Fear prickled its way through you as you heard another gunshot.

A wail ripped its way through you as your feet moved, even before you thought about running. Tears burned your vision as your world blurred.

Your heart dropped, just as Lee fell to the ground. Collapsing to your knees next to him, you frantically grasped his shirt. Looking deeply into his eyes frantically as your hands became tainted with blood.

Your Alpha’s blood.

You were crying. You knew that much.

“Lee come on. Get up,” you sobbed.

In the distance, someone was calling your name.

“… Omega?”

“… Omega?”

“… MEGA!”

You woke up in a cold sweat.

Your hands were trembling when you slowly lifted them up. In fact, your whole entire body was shaking.

You still felt as if you were still in the woods, clutching Lee’s shirt desperately as his blood coated your hands.

You hadn’t realized that you were still crying until your Alpha gently shushed you, Lee nuzzling his nose against your Gland, and it wasn’t until he dragged his tongue against it that you actually as if you were okay.

You weren’t feeling safe just yet, but when his scent burst out all over you, soothing you with the reassurance that your Alpha was actually here and not going anywhere, you calmed down a bit.

“What happened, babydoll, huh?” Lee’s voice washed over you. Wrapping around you like a fluffy blanket being thrown on you.

“Had a dream..." you mumbled quietly. Saw you…” you continued to mumble. “You looked wild, Daddy… you looked almost insane… and then… and then…”

A sob broke free from you. Your Omega wailed within you. She was throwing another fit.

She was hysterical, was what she was. Horror was consuming her at this moment.

Inwardly, she was wondering where she was. That looked like her Alpha, but where was she? Did she not exist in that world?

Your Omega couldn’t imagine a world without her Alpha. It sounded so foreign.

It sounded so… wrong.

She cried out in dismay. Your chest tightened.

Voice trembling, “You… you got shot. You… you died. I-I… I held you… as you were dying… it was like… like you couldn’t hear me.” you hiccuped as you stared at him. Right into his eyes. Those baby blues that you loved and adored so much.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any more words when your Alpha pulled you closer to him.

“Daddy,” you managed to croak out through your hiccups and sobs.

“S’ okay, babydoll.” Your Daddy’s words washed over you like the tide sweeping away the sand. Keeping you safe. Making you feel warm.

Just as soon as you felt like you were safe again, your Omega practically reminded you that yes, you were still in Heat.

And that your cramps were hitting in again.

A choking noise came from you as a gushing of slick came out. A needy, desperate noise fell from your lips.

And as your hands reached down to grasp his cock, a look of understanding overcame Lee’s face as a low rumble erupted from his throat. Such a noise made you whine.

“Daddy.”

“I gotcha, babydoll.” Lee’s raspy voice made you feel at ease as he helped you fully roll over on top of him, as you straddled him. Your lips trembled and you even gasped when you slid all the way down on his dick, your eyes squeezed shut as your pussy swallowed him greedily.

Your Omega was absolutely delighted at this new change of pace. You could hear her whisper to you, assuring you that this Alpha underneath you would provide you with healthy, strong pups.

You wouldn’t ever be alone.

Never again.

You adjusted your hips, lifting them up and angling them just right. This caused your hips to roll down on his, making your Mate groan. Slowly but surely, you took him. You took all of him.

From where he was under you, Lee watched your pussy suck in his cock with dark eyes. Your Mate could tell you were nervous. But you were so deeply entrenched within your heat that you were throwing everything out of the window. Which included your nervousness. He could smell it though. That small underlying twinge of fear.

You however, didn’t look terrified. Even with tear streaks down your face and red-rimmed eyes, your Omega was determined.

She was getting a pup in this Heat. This Cycle. She was getting a pup. She didn’t care how she would get it.

She was getting her pup one way or another.

Your hips moved. Up and down against his as you sank down completely, your body trembling. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head because he was just so big. Your greedy cunt was squeezing all around him as your lips trembled. Your breath caught in your throat.

“… too… too much, Daddy,” you managed to croak out through gasps. “… you’re too big.”

His eyes zeroed up at yours when he grabbed you by your chin. Making you look down at him. Down at those eyes. “You can take it. Look. I’m inside of you.”

And look you did. You looked down, seeing where his erection vanished inside of you. You felt so full. So stuffed. Your bottom lip trembled. Your hips rolled down on his again, tense this time. As if you were merely just testing the waters.

A hiss came from Lee. “You don’t gotta be gentle, Omega. I can take it.” He spoke harshly.

“B-But…” you stammered nervously, your breath wavering in your throat.

Lee rolled his hips up against yours roughly, making you cry out. Both of his hands grabbed your face now, making you put one-hundred percent of your attention down on him.

One of his hands traveled down your throat to your chest, down to your stomach. His hand pressed against the surface of your stomach, where his cock was buried deep inside of you. Bulging.

“I’m in you. All the way in you. I took this pussy, didn’t I? I made it mine. Only I know how good this pussy tastes. This pussy only gets wet for me, doesn’t it babydoll?” Lee’s voice was low. Growly almost.

Pressing his hand against his bulge in your stomach a little harder, you let out a whimper. Your pussy throbbed, and you could feel it. A choked kinda noise, (maybe it was a sob?), came from you. Your Alpha just groaned when he felt your walls tightening around him.

“Y-Yeah,” your voice was breathy. “Y-Yeah, Daddy.”

“So you can move. Fuck against me— yeah, that’s it—“ Lee’s guttural groan followed as you rutted against him, your hips rolling down against his in quick succession as if you were a young horny pup having sex with an Alpha for the first time.

Jesus fucking Christ on a fucking stick! Was this what your Heat had pushed you into? Acting like a desperate bitch in heat? Just wanting and craving your Alpha’s knot?

Your breasts swayed in his face, and Lee grew hard at the thought of your breasts becoming rounder and heavier with milk.

Breed Omega. Omega will give us strong, healthy pups.

Your movements became more frantic as Lee’s hips snapped up against yours roughly. Good enough that you knew somewhere deep in your hindbrain that it was going to leave bruises, at the very least.

Between him being a menace in your pussy, or him being a menace as he fucked up against you harder— you truly didn’t know which one would take you out first.

Gripping his shoulders, your nails sunk into his shoulder blades, making Lee hiss as you bounced your body above him, getting closer and closer to your orgasm.

When you had been younger, a young pup, you never really realized why Omegas in heat wanted their Alpha’s knot so much. You thought it was a crock of shit, honestly.

But now?

Now?

Now, you understood. You fully understood. Your hindbrain was screaming, no— begging for your Alpha’s knot. So it didn’t surprise you when you rocked against Lee harder, faster. Chasing your orgasm.

And with a sudden cry, you came. Your vaginal walls clenched down on Lee’s cock tightly, making him nearly gasp for air, choking a little when your body convulsed and your cunt spasmed around his penis.

Gasps. Deep gasps of breath came from you when you tried to catch your breath. But Lee, realizing what had just happened, quickly took control again.

A cry of surprise. Lee watched as you bounced above him, sinking up and down onto his cock with rapt eye contact. You barely caught the hungry, almost predatory look in his eyes as he watched you.

“… can’t wait to see you all round and pregnant with my pup,” growled Lee. “Tits are gonna look so good, round and heavy with milk…”

“F-Fuck,” you stammered, nearly choking on your own spit. “T-Think you got a breeding kink…”

Lee just huffed in a breath at your comment, continuing to thrust up into you, the mixture of slick and cum coating your thighs, making them slippery.

With a final grunt, his knot caught in you, and his knot locked the two of you in place.

The two of you gasped, gasping for air as Lee managed to roll you back onto your side without slipping out of you.

Not that he couldn’t cause y’know— his knot was currently in you and it was making you feel like as if you were floating on Cloud Nine.

Now rolled over onto your side, this new position allowed you to snuggle up to your Alpha. Sighing in content, you licked at his scent gland on his neck affectionately.

“Can’t wait to see you pregnant with our pup… gonna look so good… gonna be the best housewife for me, babydoll.” Lee rumbled. A needy whimper escaped you. “Gonna spoil you and our pup rotten, sweet girl.”

“Mmm… that sounds nice…” you yawned, beginning to feel tired. Your eyes lulled, your eyelids becoming heavy.

Lee watched as you dozed off in his arms, his girl falling asleep against him.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. And then your forehead. He looked down at you, holding you gently as if you were a precious porcelain doll. So fragile. So easily breakable if he squeezed you too hard.

His.

You were his.

Meanwhile, in Coal Creek, with Arvin and Sandy…

“Hey. You alright?”

Sandy Henderson blinked in surprise. She had left Lenora’s room just now and had closed the door behind her.

Arvin Russell was looking at her.

She could smell the scent of a bonfire. It was sort of nice in a way. It reminded her of Lee’s scent. Calming. Comforting. It made her feel as if she was in a safe space. That she was safe and protected with this Alpha.

“Huh? Oh yeah. I’m fine. Why?” Sandy wondered as she began to walk down the hall to the kitchen. Arvin followed her.

“I dunno… I mean… you’re Sheriff Bodecker’s lil sister… and you’re friends with his Omega… so… like… and not to mention, you’ve been really close with my sister lately so….” Arvin trailed off as he watched her sit down at the table. Sandy averted her eyes down to the table as she heard the young Alpha grab two glasses for some water. Sliding the glass of water over, Arvin sat down across from her. Taking a sip of his own glass of water, he heard her speak.

“Call it an Omega thing.” Sandy brushed her hair to the side, revealing the scent gland on her neck that still had Carl’s bite on it. Even when her fingertips brushed over it, she felt like her hand was on fire. As if the mere touch was burning her.

“O-Oh. Cause you’re mated?” he wondered. Sandy shook her head no. “Used to be. Used to be married too, but I’m not anymore.”

Thank fucking God.

Even though Sandy herself wasn’t religious by any means, just like her older brother. She remembered their mother taking them to church and attending Sunday Service, but she found herself just not believing like Lee. Like brother like sister, it seemed for the both of them.

Arvin leaned a little closer to her. She could smell his scent slower coming closer to her, like wisps of flame in a bonfire.

She looked down a little. “Never had a pack or nothin’ like that… pups of my own. My Beta… we never thought about conceiving.”

Because he was a fucking serial killer with a photography hobby.

“… so if I can help any other Omega with their pups,” she said with a soft smile to herself, “—then that’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look that old. I’m sure you’ll find someone to have a Pack with someday.” Arvin assured her.

Sandy hid her smile as she took another gulp of her water. Her eyes shone behind the glass.

Taglist: @bxnnywriting, @greeneyedblondie44, @hawsx3, @sunflowerfive

Fic Taglist: @queenslvy, @hawsx3

[emperor-palpaminty]

Hi!

You've already done this prompt so i don't know if you want to do it again but..

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

With Crosshair and his girl. After smut. When they have been seeing eachother for a long time but the Batch hasn't figured it out yet. 😏

You're trying to end me, Kait, and I love you for it sksks

Not explicit, but this convo does take place after sexy times!

The warmth next to you was palpable, and his panting breaths brought you solace. You had just managed to catch your breath, slow your heart just enough to clear your head. It wasn’t often you got moments like this with Crosshair- kisses were snuck in the dark corners of the ship, embraces exchanged in solo missions with just the two of you, curled up together in a tent or a shack, hiding out from both the enemy and Crosshair’s brother’s.

Yes, you were the only one that could hear him, his phrases, his sweet tones of mesh’la, sarad, muryca ni, darling. When you asked why the two of you couldn’t come forward and be a little open with your relationship, maybe they would be sympathetic and give him more time after missions to come to your small apartment and recoup. Crosshair would always shrug and playfully tug at your hair, saying it was just better this way.

Tonight, he tugged you into his chest, somewhat sticky with his sweat. “Cyare, beloved,” His voice was a haggard rhapsody that tingled your spine. “You are incredible.” His fingers dragged over your hips, humming against your head.

You gave a happy sigh, nestling against him. “And you are, to me.”

His hum reverberated in his ribs against you. Your fingers ran up and down the sharp lines of his abdomen, and you started to sit up. “I can go get some water, or tea-”

His arms pulled you closer, tighter, and he rolled over, trapping you under him as he nestled against your neck.”In a rush to leave?” He teased, between peppering pecks along your throat. You giggled, squirming gently against him in playful protest. “No, sarad.” He rubbed his face into your neck, sighing a warm breath against your skin. “You’re here with me.”

“I’m trying to make sure you’re relaxed-”

His chin pressed onto your chest as he looked up at you, a warmth heavy in his eyes that was only revealed when the two of you were alone. “I am.” He planted a soft kiss on your sternum, his hands delicately tracing over the invisible trail of kisses. “You have softened me, cyare, and I fear it’s permanant.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a bad thing.” You giggled as he rubbed the scruff of his beard into your cheek. “Shave, please.”

“I will in the morning.” Crosshair mumbled, arching his neck to press his face against the pillow, covering you with his long body. “Everything else can wait.”

A yawn pressed against your throat, protesting, begging for sleep. You closed your eyes, only half acute to his chuckles. “You know,” He whispered. “The boys have a bet that we’re gonna get together.”

“But we- oh.” You turned your head, watching him chuckle. When Crosshair smiled, it was typically sarcastic, a smirk, a quip. But this one was genuine and deep- there was a little bit more of the man you loved. A laugh, low, escaped you, and you kissed his cheek. “We should get together then.”

“Mhm.” Crosshair smiled, rubbing his lips over the slope of your shoulder. “I think that’s a great idea, sarad.” His smile pressed further into your skin, and he hummed. “Wrecker is really supportive of the idea.”

“Is he?”

“Mhm. Thinks I’ll get a better sense fo humor.”

“Ha!” You rubbed a lazy circle in his back. “For the record, your sense of humor is shit.”

“It’s not bad. Just dry.” Crosshair whispered, pulling back and looking down at you, eyes glistening slyly. “But you make me chuckle, love, and I think I’ll keep you around a little bit longer.”

[a-lil-perspective]

How would the Batch react to Hunter's s/o having a miscarriage? (Coming from your recent post.)

OMG ANON.

This made me so sad and like I’ve admittedly thought about this before but having someone ask really got me deep in my feels and this is very sad, I cried writing this, I hope this is compelling to you. This is kind of more from Cyare’s point of view but it does briefly mention the Batchers.

Tw for talk of pregnancy and miscarriage and heavy emotional angst, please take care of yourselves.🤍

———

Surprisingly or not, she finds solace in Echo.

Maybe it’s because he knows loss, a bitter taste on his tongue but sweet and saccharine in a way that makes him soft, sympathetic to her plight.

He finds her after the dust settles, lying in a broken field of heartache, curled around herself in the co-pilot’s seat seeking respite from all those providing sympathy. She’s welcomed a thick shadow of mourn around her, a penitence to go with it.

It reminds him too much of grieving vode.

“I lost the baby,” she croaks finally, when Echo’s silence has tactfully paved the way for catharsis.

His face contorts in pain. “Damn Cyare, I am… so sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, wishing to offer more than wormy sympathy she’s heard a hundred times up until this point. This is uncharted territory for the former ARC Trooper, who suddenly feels entirely out of his element even though Death is no stranger to him.

Cyare’s breathing is slow, dormant, her eyes somewhere far from the present.

“Me too,” she says finally, with a bitter tang.

“It’s not your fault.” The words are immediate, an echo in her ears meant to soothe but merely raucous all around her.

She quivers in it. “Please.” She doesn’t deserve the pardon. “I need time.”

Echo affords her that and more.

He gets up and exits then, leaving her presumably to her sorrow until he returns some minutes later with piping hot tea and a stiff smile. It’s not much to alleviate these stressors, but Echo thinks the potent steep of lavender is a start.

“Do you have anything stronger.” It’s almost wry, if Echo really examines it; whittled humor fit through the mug between her lips. It’s all she has in this trying time, a coping mechanism Echo knows all too well.

“Later; drinks on me,” he promises with only a distant regret. It isn’t his place to endorse unhealthy habits but if it eases some of the woman’s acute suffering then it’s his galactic-given duty.

Her shoulders slump then as a full, labored breath finds her, and she looks forward to the buzz that helps her forget.

She doesn’t want to forget.

Just the pain of not having him.

Her son.

It’s an all-consuming pain; strained and carried through every member of their family, weaving through the broken pieces that she’s at a loss for how to pick up.

Crosshair is too quiet, too unsure, gauging her with a trajectory he’s not sure how to plot this time.

And so he says nothing.

(He basks in his own grief elsewhere; on the shooting range.)

Tech speaks too fondly, with scientific prowess, and an unintentional flippancy that has her thin-lipped and silencing him with a clipped plea, “I need time.” She doesn’t want to hear about the percentages of nat-born miscarriages, vexing biological components that make her fold in on herself further.

Wrecker’s padded embrace is not her savior, it’s not what she seeks, when all she can imagine is the small being robbed of hers. Because of her.

It’s not your fault, she reminds herself, and the reassurance mixes like oil and water.

It doesn’t.

She doesn’t know about Hunter these days, how he fares in the wake of a devastating loss, or if his grief has turned into something accusatory, calloused.

Towards her, she’s convinced.

And it’s a juxtaposition to his comfort laid bare in the emergence of news - he was there with her, sunken to the bathroom floor after the words “I’m sorry for your loss,” reached them in tandem.

She hasn’t seen him since.

Or she has, his soothing presence whispering at her from afar, never too far in the condensed square inches of their home that seem ever-suffocating.

She refuses to look his way.

Even at night, whilst tucking in their other precious gems - of whom a newfound thankfulness for blooms - she is careful to keep her eyes trained on these beautiful home-spun versions of him. Their children are their only vessel of conversation, of which even then is scarce. The bed dips as he moves closer, their band of girls both a bridge and a chasm between. They inveigle him for a story, and he obliges without fail.

And Cyare’s only half-listening, admiring her husband’s dedication while she wishes to be anywhere but here. It’s times like this, as she aims to slip away undetected, she’s reminded that he is strong, and she is not.

“Mommy. Stay.”

The warm, dainty hand grasping her own orchestrates a thick lump in her throat she pointedly forces down. Her eyes sting, and it takes her a moment to finally look her youngest daughter’s way.

“Stay for Papa’s story, Mommy.”

She can feel his eyes on her, but she does not seek an audience. His plea for her attention, recognition, perspires zealous in the air. She refuses to look. To acknowledge the loss.

“Okay,” she whispers, and it’s so frail. “I’ll stay.”

So frail.

So she listens to Hunter’s story, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to detect the weight of his burden slowly creeping through, giving way to a pained lilt even through the “…and they lived happily ever after.”

Something she wonders if they’ll ever have.

His sturdy sonance of words usher the girls into a blissful remiss, unassuming and untroubled by their parent’s turmoil; their minds mellow with a peace she covets.

A chaste kiss to their heads, and Cyare’s fled the room with the hopes he doesn’t follow.

He does.

Because he can’t stay away, because their pain is a shared endeavor, and isn’t that what he promised in their marriage vows?

“I want to be left alone,” she says, at the sound of his lumbering steps into the bedroom.

“No you don’t,” he absolves, moving in a furtive manner. Cyare remains steadfast with her back to him, hoping if she ignores his very presence, like some fever dream the hurt will cancel itself out.

It doesn’t - it won’t.

Hunter’s presence is a conduit of the pain made apparent in finer details; in her threadbare, vulnerable state, she wonders how much their son would’ve resembled him.

She wonders, and she bursts into tears.

It’s alarming, to Hunter; not that he has never bear witness to his wife’s tears, but that they threaten to ricochet off his own. He moves to her swiftly.

“I had a name for him,” Cyare cries.

“…‘Him’?”

It’s the final thread of grief, lilted disbelief shattering the last remnants of composure; his and hers.

As he gathers her close, Hunter also wonders if his deceased namesake would’ve taken after him in appearance.

Hunter closes his eyes and an image slides into place: a boy, with luscious curls not unlike his sisters’. Hunter shuts his eyes tighter and his son has his smile, but Cyare’s kind eyes.

He misses those eyes.

He misses everything all at once.

“Cyare…” his voice is broken and displaced, but so is she, and it’s his job as her husband, her partner, to put her back together again. “We’ll get through this.”

Even if he doesn’t believe he can.

———

Edit: This ask was sent to me an embarrassing long time ago, I’ve had it written and queued for months but could never bring myself to post it (as with most things I write lol) but in light of the recent ask revolving around miscarriages I thought it might be appropriate to just share this little thingy. Enjoy.

[yandere-wishes]

Dr.Frankenstein

💀Yandere Idia Shroud x Reader

💀Summary: Idia wants to prove the world wrong. To show that there is more to life than good and bad, villains and heroes. But somewhere along the way, he falls in love with what he is trying to prove. 

💀Warnings: Dead reader, delusional tendencies, gore,

💀Edited by my beloved Peri!! @tealyjade-libran

💀 Alternative title: Dr. Frankenstein falls in love with his monster. 

Idia had known, from an all too young age that his heart was fashioned to be enraptured with misery and sympathy.  

Once before, a few thousand eons ago, Idia had been a meager child, boyish, shy and happy with life. Sitting on his mother's lap, as her thinner than bone fingers ignited themselves on his scorching hair. He'd listen as her sunken lips recited story after story from forgotten books and dead myths. content, long ago he had known the feeling of contentment. 

And yet said feeling had died so long before Idia even comprehended the narrative behind death. His joy at hearing tales about daring heroes and bewildering gods ran dry all too soon. He'd grown numb to the stories of good and evil, the same formula used over and over and over again. Good won, good prevailed; evil lost, evil vanished. It lacked logic and sense. The probability behind mindless heroes saving the day each and every time was astronomical. It couldn't happen. Yet the history of their world and his darling mother's tongue told a different tale. 

-Not only could it be done, but rather it had been done on endless occasions.-

There had, however, been one story that stood out amongst the rotten batch. An anecdote that lacked morals and didn't defy a single law of nature. One would never think that a god born would find solace in a tale of a simple human trying to play god. The only story that sunk deep into his arteries like fragile needles, swimming through his blood before pricking manically at his heart. The only story mama told with faint nostalgia and a distant voice. The spiel of a scientist, whose mind was both his greatest ally and worst foe. A man who looked at the heavens with neither admiration nor hope. A mortal who wasn't satisfied with what good and bad had to offer. Dr. Frankenstein, whose one true desire was to do what gods did, to prove that he too could accomplish what the heavens claimed a miracle. 

It was then and there among the pitch black of his parent's room that the oldest -no the only- son of the Shroud family proclaimed in a hoarse voice that cracked at each interval. That he too would be like Victor Frankenstein. That he too would live in a world of his own, a world with no room for good and evil. A world free of wretched stories that filled the minds of jovial children. And on that day, fate had the gall to listen to the claims of a brainless brat. 

Even after countless millennia, Idia Shroud had not changed, he'd only grown into the role he forged for himself some centuries ago. 

Yet nobody ever said it would be so hard to suffer the pain of a once maddening genius. The stories made it seem easy, made Frankenstein’s pain into pretty poetry that held only a fraction of the weight. Idia came to question time and time again, what it really was he was trying to suffer for. Why did he bestow upon himself the endless torment of alienation from a world that he too longed to be a part of?

Victor Frankenstein had something to prove, he longed to be a god in the most unclassic way. All the frenetic doctor wished was to shout at all mankind and the heavens above that he was the greatest. For in his suffrage he had discovered the antidote to what sets men apart from gods. That he, the overlooked boy, the forgotten pupil had -with solely his intellect- created life. 

-Idia too desired to do just that. To scream at this fairy tale world that he, the cursed heir, the villain, the monster, was superior to every prince and hero in existence.-

Somewhere along the line, in the space between todays and tomorrows, he'd somehow lost the method behind the madness he had come to cage himself within. He lost purpose, lost hope, forgot why he'd declared to earth and Olympus that he too would be a genius akin to Dr. Frankenstein. 

Idia didn't know what spark had flared his senses, what made him realize what it was he lacked from the hopeless doctor. He liked to think it had been the moment glacial fingers rinsed in fair blood and washed away gold and been stripped from his pale clammy hands. Phantom kisses had waltzed away from his burning cheek to float back into the spiral from which they had risen. 

The dead marching back to the land of the deceased.

Leaving him to crawl back into the dark pits of his self-made hell.

Only this time, he'd understand why Frankenstein had dedicated his life to seclusion. Why he'd taken gulps of anguish, rather than air. 

It was so painfully obvious, sitting in front of him on a golden throne this whole time. How in Hades' name had he been so blind? How had he forgotten?

Although admittedly his chagrin of forgetting far outweighed his elation of finally remembering. Frankenstein hadn't suffered for not, he had suffered to build, to create. His isolation wasn't of choice but rather out of necessity. 

-The monster-

 The Monster was Frankenstein's raison d'être, The final fruit of his endless labors. He had risked everything to build him and that's exactly what Idia would do too. 

Victor Frankenstein had his monster. 

Idia Shroud would have his monster.

//

It was on a dreary night that Idia beheld the accomplishment of his toils. anxiety burned through his fragile body, amounting ever so quickly to agony. Thoughts of do's and don't's flooded his body, pilling on top of each other like corpses after a genocide.

Inside the lights were just barely surviving, every few minutes they would flicker breathing in a final breath before a short death, only to be revived minutes later, spilling their artificial glow throughout the chamber. The room itself reeked of rotting flesh and something so sickly sweet, it almost made the dorm leader of the nearly deceased heave. 

Idia's eyes remain static, seemingly stitched to the thing on the metal slab of a table. The body lays limp like a porcelain doll. No, not a doll, Idia thinks, like the monster, Frankenstein’s monster before it arose from its deathly slumber. 

Outside A flash of lightning crackles through the night sky, rough sparks of electricity flow through the murky air. They jolt and dance before dying in the night's void. 

After it, the world falls still, trapped behind the iron bars of an endless minute. The once meek god feels a surge dance through his core. The levity of his dreams prancing about. He's close, all so close. A breath away and it will be done. A minute away and all the world will see that there's never been any need for good and evil. Morals are merely prejudice beaten into every living thing, a simple way to keep mortals in their place and gods ruling above them. 

The bloody needle in his hand slips through his leather-covered fingers, chimes as it hits the blood soaked ground. Idia's mind races through the odds and ends of everything. Through the fairy tale that is his life. He wonders, would they be proud of him? Would His darling dead brother whose soul now rests in a metal body, shut down and laid to rest in a forgotten corner, advocate what he's about to do? Would his mother's sickly lingula sing praise to him, retell the glory of her son's endeavors to the children of the accursed isle? Probably not, it's a bitter thought, but as true as they come. What parent or brother on this damn earth would be proud of their monster trying to fabricate an abomination? Who, in the millennia to come would look back on him and declare with pride that Idia Shroud had been a genius, one who stood above the heroes and villains and gods? Who would ever call him something better than a hero, better than a villain, better than a god? 

In hindsight, Idia likes to think he always knew what he was doing. Always knew that he wanted the world to remember him as the one who broke the rhythm that the universe had been dancing to for endless years. To show this story-obsessed world, that good, and evil were merely perceptions of broken minds. Ideologies fabricated to justify meaningless actions. 

Good could be bad.

Evil could be nice. 

But science prevailed over all else.

Idia's knees quivered as he bends down by the table, his pale blue lips hovered above his creation's stitched-up forehead. He knew it was wrong, so, so wrong. But it couldn't be helped. For some ungodly reason, as the days ticked by and he began to sew together the bag of mismatched limbs. Idia had, in some way, come to love his creation. He wouldn't call it love per se. But he did long to hold his fragile creation in his arms. To kiss their reddened lips as their torn tongue invaded his mouth. 

In the dead of night as he laid beside his still dead lover, no monster, not lover, not yet. He began to wonder, had Frankenstein fallen in love with his abomination somewhere along the road? Had fate once again played its silly little games and twisted their paths to forever meet? Did Victor Frankinstine ever wish to kiss his creation, to have them kiss him?

It may have been wrong. The storybook-bound people of this world may even call it evil. But it wouldn't be that way for long. Idia's fingers curled into his palm, the shards of his bitten-off nails dug deeper into his flesh. His chest tightened with a foreign sensation. A feeling that made cold sweat run down his thin neck. 

Using what little strength he had left, Idia pushed himself off the ground and wobbled over to his mainframe machine. He braced himself on the heavy machinery trying to regain a semblance of his balance. He could do this, he had to do this. 

His bony finger coiled around the silver leaver, the patched of rust bite into his skin. He held the power to defy everything. To make a new world. His golden pupils land on his fingers for a second. a faint memory of his mother slither back into his mind. It's murky and foggy but he remembers the way her boney fingers use to trail down his hair and arms and legs. How she traced ghosts and blood splatters on his chubby wrists, as she retold the story of the mad scientist. Comically enough she had been the reason why Idia had fabricated this self-induced prophecy and now he'd grown to be her spitting image. A carbon copy of the person who fueled his obsession with defying the laws of good and evil. 

The leaver budged forward, clicking in protest as Idia pulled it lower and lower. Outside thunder boomed through the air, louder and louder. Maybe the ancient gods knew what he was doing. Maybe this storm was their warning to him. Yelling and shrinking to get him to stop. Threatening him to give up this game he had played for so long. 

No.

Not this time. 

Idia had operated by the book, he'd done everything like Victor Frankenstein. No ancient deity or prized warrior would be able to stop him. The gods' threats were the last part of his plan, all he needed was the lightning, the stray string of electricity. Then you would come alive. You'd be his to hold, to love, to cherish. To show to the whole damn mindless world. 

A crackle shot through the air, twisting itself around the rod connected to the device and to an extension, you as well. It slated around the iron, like a wild tiger trapped in a cage. Squawking and fighting to free itself as it slid downwards. The moment it came in contact with the larger body of the machine, it roared, a deafening white noise that reverberated off the stone walls. It pierced Idia's ears, causing a thin line of blood to drool down the side of his head. The apparatus buzzed to life, bright lights filled the chamber and the wires attached to your corpse began to stir. 

The once still carcass began to jerk violently, its head and arms and feet shaking, twisting in inelegant gruesome movements. Its torso would lift from the table only to crash down once more, with a force that surely fractured a few bones. Amid the madness, the mouth of the monster began to open, popping the loose stitches around the edge of her lips. Its long tongue darted out like a snake. And though it was mostly hushed by the hissing of the loose electric bolts and the harsh rain that had started to pour outside. Idia swore he heard her whisper his name.

The fire-haired boy ran across the room, tumbling to the side of the metal table. His large arms wrapped around your tiny ones. His eyes bore into yours. Watching as your inconsistent eyes stared into his. Your face was soft and tender, painted in an innocence only worn by young children. You were his now, his perfect creation. Something began to build inside of him, a forgotten feeling. 

Contentment; this was contentment, something he hadn't felt for a long long time. 

What are gods if not humans who possess a secret no one else could obtain? With you by his side, in his arms, Idia could finally, finally triumph overall. He had made life, he had defied all else, surely now everyone could see he was superior to all else in this make-believe world. 

But the moment ended all too soon. Your eyes began to dull over, darkening with every blink until they shut permanently once more. The thumping of your borrowed heart began to slacken. Pounding slower and slower until it stilled. The patched up body came next, falling limp, dead again, floating back to the yonder of the grave. Out of his grasp, out of his life.

The world didn't stand still this time, instead, it scrambled forward at aching speed. No sooner had you taken your first breath had you taken your very last. You'd left without ever saying "hello".

Maybe in the midst of all the chaos, glorious altering chaos, he screamed, maybe he cried. Maybe it finally dawned on him why Dr. Frankenstein was merely a myth. A fable told to accursed children. Because Victor Frankenstein wasn't good or evil. He neither harbored joy nor malice. He wished only to be the best. And for so long Idia had wished the same. Searched for the same purpose in his meaningless life. 

What is a scientist if not a harbinger of grief and pain? 

Someone who devotes their life and loin, riddle and reason, in search of true purpose amongst the forces of the universe. What's a scientist if not a god in their own right. 

Had he been a god just now, Idia was left to ponder. For two glorious, astonishing, baffling moments Idia had been better than any god in existence. He had prevailed where every hero had failed. He had accomplished what villains went mad trying to achieve. He had been victorious.

Yes, Idia Shroud had fulfilled his dream. 

If only for a couple of inert moments. 

Gods were merely that, humans who had created something from the very soil they too were made of. 

And he too had done it. 

But alas in the end, maybe the legends and the myths had been true, credible good always won and evil did always vanish. Barring you had been so young, so new, you didn't even comprehend good or evil, you hadn't been alive long enough to understand what those two defining forces even were. The world didn't yet know if you were even good or evil. But it matters all so very little because you were his creation, his monstrosity, his, and Idia Shroud had always been and would always be evil, a villain in his own right. Just another gear in the predominant forces of the universe.

He'd been a fool to think he could defy the structured narrative this world had come to accept as law. 

Although, no narrative could ever change how much he had loved you, dead or alive. It wouldn't change how he had almost, almost, became Dr.Frankenstein. 

Although at the final page just before he closed the book. In the back of his mind, Idia was sure he had become the doomed doctor. 

For he too had both fallen in love with his creation and driven himself mad over it.